Not A Follower
by Livilulu
Summary: Alas, good looking people never fare well in the Hunger Games. Burnet Yunnan: an apparently good looking person.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

__President Hayle sat in his office chair, chin resting on his desk, supporting his chin, doing nothing but thinking. It had been three months since Parle had died, so why wasn't he over her? He cried about her every day. She'd died in a freak train crash- to no fault of the Capitol, of course, and the conductor had been immediately fired. The conductor, indeed, had been the only survivor. Parle had been pregnant with their baby, who also perished in the accident. He could hardly bear to think about it.

Every day he was forced to look upon the families of happy parents and many children. They were poor, but happy. He was rich, but devastated. None of it made any sense! He deserved to be happy, not them! Parle deserved to live. He stood up suddenly, thinking of a solution that would satisfy all of his needs, breathing heavily. The new Quarter Quell had been an issue for a while. He still had to come up with it. The one that had been previously prepared was rubbish. No wood. It had already been tried; and had lead to a rather boring season of uneventful deaths. No, that wouldn't do. His idea would lead to great entertainment. He walked briskly out from behind his desk and to his secretary, Mallie Trinket. She leaped up, her spotted skin giving the illusion that her body was waving. "Mallie, please arrange for a press conference this afternoon, and for it to be broadcast live. I have a marvelous idea for the Quarter Quell."

_*I know it's awfully short and mysterious, but the rest of the story is from Burnet's point of view, and I had to get this in! More coming soon!_


	2. Rotten Brothers

I can't stand my brother. I absolutely can't. Suddenly, the moment he's twenty-one and I'm just nearly seventeen, he gets magical powers and can tease me about still having to go through the reaping. He has no idea how scary the games are. He doesn't have to watch them, and can't remember the ones he has watched. He'll find any excuse not to watch them, but ever since he was eighteen and he began working in the coal mines, he's had more of an excuse. We don't even need him to work in the mines. He just wants to. I don't complain. The more money, the more bread, the better fed we are. My dad is a butcher, and a well known one at that. We're one of the wealthiest in District Twelve, but wealthy in District Twelve is still fairly poor.

"Hunter Yunnan!" I yell, fuming as I leap clumsily across a puddle on our doorstep. No way is he making off with my knife. It's the only talent I have, knife throwing. I for one take the Hunger Games very seriously, always considering what would happen if I really was picked. Of course, that would never happen, but it was a good skill to have.

"Burnet Yunnan!" he yells back mockingly, and I hear an odd ringing sound and a loud clash, signifying that he unsuccessfully attempted to pin my knife in a wall of brick. I smirked. Boys drooled, girls… were handier with knifes. I took off towards the edge of the square, where I could have sworn I'd heard him. I saw the knife before I saw him. It was lying helplessly on the ground. That's my brother for ya. I daintily picked it up, threw it in the air, and caught it by the handle, placing it expertly in it's spot in my belt, and taking off back towards home. I pass the humming Hob, the bakery, and the shoemakers, drawing ever closer to home.

When I think I hear a noise, I stop for a moment, and that's when he growls. I whip around to see Hunter creeping up on me, imitating a wolf. "My brother the mutt." I mutter to myself, as I choose to ignore him and keep running. When I get to an intersection, I go the opposite way to confuse the brother who is surely on my tail, and only arrive five minutes late. As I suspected, Hunter is not there. I stagger up to my room and collapse on my bed, for tomorrow is a school day.

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If not for Gentian, school would be horrible. I'm just plain old Burnet. Nobody but Gentian knows of my knife skills, in fact, nobody but Gentian knows me. Plain sandy blonde hair, obviously just past my shoulders, with a medium height, skinny build, a slight splatter of freckles, and brown eyes. There is absolutely nothing interesting about me. Gentian, on the other hand, drawn tons of attention. It depends who you ask if it's good or bad. It depends if the person is male or female.

Gentian is a tall redhead, not necessarily pale but certainly not tan, with a slight splatter of freckles. He's muscular. This gives him an advantage in knife throwing. I have no romantic interest in him. Not since my mother ran away with a beach blonde guy, leaving me and Hunter alone with dad. I realized there was no point in romance unless you're sure you've found the right one. Dad wasn't sure. Look how that turned out.

You can tell that people have me classified as crazy. The boys think I'm crazy for knowing how to throw a knife, and the girls think I'm stupid for not taking the Gentian bull by the horns. You can tell by the looks he gets that they want him. I laugh at them, but never point it out to Gentian. He gets all pink and embarrassed. He told me it's a redhead thing. He never gets embarrassed about girls otherwise.

"Today is a half day!" the intercom announces, and my eyes immediately locked into Gentian's. What could they possibly be doing? Then the intercom explains, and my eyes never leave Gentian's. We're silently communicating.

The intercom says, "You will all take a brief test. Nothing hard, just about yourself."

I shoot Gentian a "what the hell?" look.

"If you qualify, then you will be interviewed."

We both shoot equally puzzled looks at each other. Qualify for what? And who was speaking over the intercom? Surely not Principal Hermin. We're all shuffled from the cafeteria to our homerooms. I thank the stars the one period I have with Gentian is homeroom. We find a neatly stapled packet on our desk, with several sheets of paper laid neatly next to it. I take a seat. What's happening?

"Look up here, please." our teacher says, and all eyes immediately lock into hers. She clears her throat, obviously struggling to hold herself together. "Number your paper from one through one hundred. Answer the questions there," she says, and I begin.

_1. What is your name?_

That's easy. Burnet Yunnan. I write it.

_2. How old are you?_

16.

_3. How many siblings do you have? How old are they?_

One 21-year-old brother.

_4. Do you consider yourself attractive?_

Sorta.

_5. Are you dating anyone?_

No.

The questions continue on like that until they get a bit different. Questions like "What does the name Katniss Everdeen mean to you?" and "have you ever watched a replay of the 74th Hunger Games?" I answer as honestly as I can.

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The classroom is completely silent. Nobody talks. Not even the gaggle of girls. Now that's a rarity. I sit tensely next to Gentian, but he seems completely relaxed. He's thinking. I can tell. "Don't be worried." he says suddenly, and I frown. He must be deep in concentration. He didn't say it kindly, he didn't imply that everyone was worried. He sensed my uncomforted, and put his arm around me, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Burnet, we're not dying here. We've just been told to- not talk." he explains.

"Well, then, you'd better shut your yapper," I reply, gently placing his arm at his side. There we wait, the awkwardness deteriorated, wishing that the intercom would crackle to life.

"Gentian Harse, Burnet Yunnan, and Kendal Perry, please report to the office."


	3. Meaningful Interviews

I've never been in the office before. It's like a prison cell. Everything's gray except for the color key on the color printer. There are no carpets, of course, everyone's shoes are thin little moccasins, so no noise would have been made anyways. Gentian and I stride in and come to a confident stop. The girl, Kendal, slinks in behind us. We see several other students around our year seated in chairs lining the room, and upon spotting three empty seats at the very end of the procession, we seated ourselves. Almost the moment we did, a lady that none of us noticed before barked out from a corner.

"Line up! Interviews!"

Gentian and I are purposely last. We want to see if those being 'interviewed' come out trembling or beaming. They come out neither. In fact, none of them come out. There must be a door in the office, I think. There's no explanation. Finally, it's down to us two. The best friends. Gentian offers to go first. I don't argue. As he makes his way to the door, he turns back, gives a little wave, and he's gone.

I'm waiting for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes before I'm called. I gulp nervously. I think of the likelihood that I'll be immediately killed the moment I step into the room. It's doubtful.

The room looks exactly the same as the office, except there's a large mahogany desk placed squarely in the middle, with the strange woman seated behind it. Next to her are two eccentric looking men, obviously from the Capitol. They're striped! Immediately, they whip up clipboards and start frantically scribbling, making comments such as "scrawny" and "split ends". This doesn't bother me. I don't pay much attention to my personal beauty. Eventually, they stop and the lady clears her throat. I glance around the room to make sure there's nothing I'm expected to be doing. Nothing appears to be there.

"Name? Age? You single? Got any talents?" the lady squawks, and I hastily reply.

"Burnet Yunnan, sixteen, erm, yeah. Not dating. I can throw knifes pretty okay," I say, immediately thinking of a million ways I could have said that differently. The next thing the lady says surprises me. "You may go."

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It's been months since the 'interview'. I've almost forgotten it, but not quite. What were they looking for? Why did they keep asking me if I was single? I try to keep these things out of my head as I stroll toward the square for the Quarter Quell reaping. There is no reason for the Quell and the interview to be connected. I have much worse things to worry about, such as why they didn't announce the Quell on television. They always do that. Again, I hope that doesn't tie in to the interview.

My dress is a simple white. My hair is simple. My shoes are simple. My makeup is nonexistent. Living with an all guy family, I learned that guys are allergic to makeup. At least, they act like they are. I can see the square from here. I'm almost there. I round the corner…

I feel a pair of strong hands clasp around my mouth, and I'm pulled backwards into darkness.

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"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special Quarter Quell planned for you." I heard Mallie Trinket announce from the little stage. I wasn't in the crowd. Hunter and my dad will be wondering where I am. Not that I care much about what the former thinks, but my dad has already been through so much.

So many things are racing through my mind as I stand in the back of a straight line behind the stage. This was my worst fear. I recognize these kids from the office. The interview must be associated with the Quarter Quell. Does this mean that I could possibly be reaped? I stop thinking for a moment. This is it.

"Back in the 74th Hunger Games, a poor soul named Kaniss Everdeen, from District 12, entered the games with the male tribute from this district, Peeta Mellark. This Quarter Quell, we will be honoring this legendary season, but taking it to the next level, rather. The twenty most attractive sixteen year olds have been selected to take part in the reaping- ten boys and ten gals. The result will be a couple." Trinket explained, and my head raced. I knew what they were planning. To make the circumstances in the game increase your likelihood of falling in love. Just so they can watch us have our hearts ripped apart when the other is killed. Well, the joke's on them. If I'm picked, that won't be happening to me. I have a one in ten chance of being picked. The odds are against me being picked. I feel I have nothing to worry about. When I'm shoved onto the stage, I do so with grace and confidence.

"Gentlemen first!" calls out Trinket. I think of Gentian. How easily he could walk into the arena and kill somebody. Of course, he wouldn't think twice. He'd be fighting for his own life. I would probably do the same thing, and I feel selfish.

"Liham McNamara." Trinket calls out. I breathe a sigh of relief. So it's not Gentian. It's a beach blonde, tan boy who can't blush, his skin color won't allow it. But if he could, he would. I can tell that he's fighting to keep a straight face. Besides those physical differences, as well as completely different facial features, he and Gentian have the same build. I flinch. He reminds me of my mother's new husband. Liham stands to the left of Trinket, calm and composed. He's looking to the sky, and I can see why. A huge family of white blondes stand at the front of the crowd, the younger wiggling with silent screams, and the older children standing stock still, tears running down their cheeks. His parents are fighting to keep the younger children together, but it seems like more of a way to let out their emotions, and not have to look at their son. This is horrible. I feel horrible.

"Congratulations! Now we'll see who the lucky lady is!" Trinket says, but you can tell Liham is thinking of everything but romance. I don't change my posture. It won't be me. The odds are very against it. I reassure myself again and again.

"Burnet Yunnan!" Trinnket squeals, and I faint.


	4. I'm Lucky

The waiting room can only be described as one thing. Extravagant. Sure, my family's one of the wealthier ones in our district, but that's honestly not saying much. Our place is a two-room, brick block. There's no brick to be seen in here. There are oriental carpets everywhere I step, draperies, famous paintings, velvet couches. I'm sitting on one of them now. I relish it.

The awkward part is who's sitting next to me. That boy, Liham. He hasn't said a word. I wish Gentian were here. Even though he'd screw it up, he'd still say something. I can't be expected to do _everything_. We're both at opposite sides of the couch. We're both thinking. My main question is, what's my strategy? Do I play with Liham or not? Falling for him is out of the question. He's all wrong. He's too perfect. What will my family do? My dad obviously can't go past a month or two without me. Hunter's either got to step up, or- or they're doomed. Liham snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Burnet, right?" he asks. I nod. He already knew that. I can tell he's being careful about what he says. I wish he were a jerk. It would make things a whole lot easier. For now, I'm going to assume he's a jerk until proven wrong. "So what're we going to do now?" he asks, as if reading my mind. What will be done? What little talking was being done is interrupted by the arrival of Hunter and my dad. As my dad strides in, I stand up, and I hug him as hard as I can. Odds are I'll never see my dad again. When I release, I see Hunter standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He's wearing a poker face. I don't want to hug him, but I do. I walk slowly to him. He still doesn't acknowledge me. I suddenly hug him, very quickly and swiftly, and turn away from him before seeing his reaction. What I do see is Liham staring at me very peculiarly, and quickly trains his eyes on Hunter before he thinks I notice anything. I don't doubt he was only looking at me for a second. What's so special about me? No, he wouldn't have been staring at me.

I walk back over to the couch, and take a seat. My dad and bother are escorted out. I'm confused. Was that it? I wasn't allowed to talk, or assure, or anything? I then realize why. A family of what must be twenty floods into the room and crowds around the couch. Before they form their circle, I dodge out and settle in the corner, just staring as the family exchanged teary hugs and loving words. It was almost unbearable. Why isn't my family like this? I looked around the room. I didn't want to be sad for this family. But the kids were so- pitiful.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a red splotch several feet in the air, moving slowly towards me. I don't think twice about who it is. I almost jump on him, and Gentian wraps his arms around me, and everything's better. We'll be training with knifes together again tomorrow. We'll go to school together, we'll come back home and play with his little sister. We'll have lunch in the cafeteria together, talk about the newest knife brand together. It'll all be fine. Us two friends.

But he broke apart, his eyes pained. Reality broke like an egg on my head, and I was distressed again. "You okay?" he asked, and I knew what he meant. Me, in the Hunger Games? He knew I was dreading it. There was something else there, though. What else was there to feel?

I gulped. "Never been better, Gent." I squeaked, and hugged him again. This one was quick. The hour was up. We moved to the side as Liham's family flooded out of the door, omitting several pitches of sniffs, squeals, and screams. We were silently communicating again. He and I both knew that I wasn't going to win. He and I both knew that I wasn't coming back. Both of our eyes were filled with sorrow. He took my hand, squeezed it, and left.

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The moment I had set foot onto the train, the idea really settled into my mind. That I was most likely walking to my death. That knife throwing wasn't going to cut it. I was annoyed at Liham. He hadn't presented an idea. He wasn't taking charge. Neither was I, but he's the guy! Are we "romantically involved" or not? I hadn't watched the 74th Hunger Games. That was 26 years ago. I wasn't alive, but I'd heard about the Mellarks. They were supposed to be missing after starting a failed rebellion. it had worked for a little bit, but the government had been obviously overthrown by the former Capitol again, and most things went back to normal. But normal would never exist for me. I'd always be that girl who compete in the 100th Hunger Games. The Love Season.

I'd immediately plopped down on my bed after being led to my compartment, and had been sitting there, thinking, for nearly an hour. Dinner was in twenty minutes. I hopped out of bed drowsily, padding to my drawers and pulling out a knee length pink skirt and a loose cream shirt. Not my favorite, but it would do.

I pad out to the moving dining room. Mallie Trinket is there, and so is Liham. Is there no mentor? I sit down nervously. We are in an average sized, rectangular room with low ceilings, but a large dining table piled high with food. I am salivating. I am about to dig in when Mallie cleared her throat.

"I have to- talk to you two." she said, and I am very shocked at how… normal her voice sounds. Isn't she the squeaky one who is pretty much one giant frill? She looks so serious. I glance at my lap, and back up to her. Liham is next to me, but several feet away from me. I glance his way. He's staring at Mallie intently. It dawned on me that he would do everything possible to win, whether it meant killing me, or anyone else.

"I'm going to be your mentor. With Haymitch Abernathy and the Mellarks missing, there are no current victors." she says, and I instinctively glance at Liham. He glances at me. We look away at the same time.

"I've also been instructed to tell you that there will absolutely be two winners this season. Only if they're from the same district." she adds, and my eyes again lock into Liham's. I only look away after a few seconds this time.

"Okay, okay," interrupts Liham, and I'm glad he does. This can go on for a while. "but do you have any strategic advice for us?" he asks, and we both focus on her. Everything's silent except for the distant clinking of the wheels. Mallie gulps.

"Well, I do have some. You-" she hesitates, "You have to stand out. You have to be madly in love."


	5. Definitely Sexy

So there I sat, eyes bulging out of their sockets, a little bit shocked. Sure, I was preparing myself for something like this, but never mad love! No, no, no. I barely knew Liham! How could Mallie suggest this? I don't hear anything from Liham's side of the table. I look over to him, and he's just staring at his lap, with no readable expression on his face. I turn back to Mallie and frown pointedly at her. I had to find the most polite way to say this.

"Erm, Mallie, is that… absolutely necessary?" I ask, twirling my fingers between each other, intertwining and separating them. Mallie nods, and my heart sinks. I'd actually had a feeling this would happen. Of course, if my mind had actually strayed as far as _me_ participating in the Hunger Games, I would have rather have me paired with some specky, scrawny, short boogerish boy one year than me. The uglier, the easier. Liham was none of those, and more. It was making it hard for me to hate him. I would just have to settle with strongly disliking him.

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My stylist's chair was very comfortable. Honestly, I could just lie back and sleep away, but I wanted to be awake. I had no idea what they would do to a plain girl such as myself. What do they see me as? Innocent or sexy? Plain or stunning? Of course, I needed to know what I was playing by in the arena, besides being deeply romantically involved in Liham.

My main stylist, Yasmin, has honeysuckle hair tied into thousands of little mini braids, with gorgeous ebony skin and pink eyelashes halfway up her forehead. Myrtle and Florian, the assistants, both have green hair, although Myrtle's is straight, sleek, and far down her back, it was almost too perfect to be true. Florian's is up in two inch spikes sticking off his head in odd places, and his skin is speckled with black dots equally distanced from each other, about the size of my thumbnail. They were both very pale and would probably be freckled, if anyone could tell. I cringe. The Capitol styles are so strange!

My stylists do exactly what the capitol men from my interview did.

"Scrawny."

"Skinny."

"Split ends."

"_Freckles._"

"This'll be a hard one…" they all say as they circle me. I don't really care that I'm nearly naked aside from my undergarments. I'm blonde; I won't need waxing, thank goodness pale hairs are unnoticeable. They're all frowning at me, scribbling on their little clipboards. We all stand there in silence except for their thoughtful murmurs to themselves. Finally, Florian speaks.

"Sexy, definitely."

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Usually District 12 wears black clothing, or flaming clothing, or dirty clothing. This year, every stylist team was instructed to dress their contestant in the most flattering outfit possible. My stylist team found that I was not curvy enough for something tight around the pelvis, that I was a skinny little stick, so they went with the skimpiest top they could find and one of those floral skirts that sort of poofs. I look like a Barbie doll. It's disgusting.

Don't even get me _started_ on Liham. He's like a leather rapper from the twenty first century, complete with sunglasses and chains. It's very strange. We look very unattractive. What were our stylists thinking? I mean, they're so hard to blame because they seem so innocent and childlike, unaware to anything but their frivolous world of cakes and fashion styles.

I don't know what to make of Liham at this point. I haven't spent much time around him. Again, I've decided to not like him, so I'm very reluctant to hold his hand, as I've been told. The moment our chariot lurches to a start, I'm thrown to the front of the chariot, and am about to make contact with the separation wall between us and the driver's area when something catches my hand and pulls me back. I plop back into my seat. Just in time for the crowd to see what happened. Liham obviously did it. Before I know it, his lips are on mine. The crowd roars. It only lasts for a moment. I was too confused to feel anything. He seriously knows how to play the crowd. When he's finished, he winks out of the window, and spends the rest of the time making sure the incident isn't repeated, by steadily holding my hand. I don't know what to make of it. I would like to say that my opinion hasn't changed, but really, it has. I now view him as more dangerous, then I remember. There can be two winners, there need be no competition! Then my heart sinks. How can we guarantee that we'll compete with each other? So I might actually be killed by him after all. I take my mind off killing, and focus on playing the crowd, puffing my lips and blowing a kiss. They eat it up.

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I'm back on the train. Then I'm not. I am. I'm not. Finally, Mallie tells us that we're getting off the train for the last time. I know I won't miss it. Really, there's nothing to do, and I wish the games would just begin, since this is just a giant waste of time, but it's training time. It's all valuable.

I sprint from our joined rooms in the center down to the actual facility. I stop where it says Training Room. I ruffle my hair, adjust my shirt, align my pants crease, relax my face, and push the doors open.

_*This may be a little bit of a short/disappointing chapter, but there's tons of detail in the next one and it would be hard to shove it all together. Thanks for your time!_


	6. Scared

Everyone in here is gorgeous. Pale, tan, ebony, blond, brunette, redhead, jet black, everything. They are all tall, curvy, muscular, and toned. Liham fits right in. I do not. The variation in people surprises me. I thought it would be a room full of Barbies and Kens. Instead, there are many varieties of beauty. And then there's me. I'm a mixture of everything. Something strikes me as odd. Nobody's holding hands, or eyeing each other affectionately. No kissing, nobody's even near each other. It doesn't make any sense. This is the Romance Season.

Then it hits me. Nobody's been instructed by their mentors to act all in love offscreen. Why not? Maybe they want it to be raw, for it to be acted out onscreen. Mallie must want us to be original, to stand out. I figure it means we'll get sponsors. I glance around the room, and spot Liham. I see several girls eyeing him. They must think he's particularly handsome today. I must say, he's not ugly today, with ruffled hair and a button down shirt rolled up halfway up his arms, looking very rugged and sloppy. I see my chance. If other girls fancy him at the moment, then theoretically, I should too. I run over to him and almost leap on him, but he hardly budges. It's as if he knew I was going to play this card. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer as we kiss. The whole facility stops moving as they observe us. This lasts for several seconds, and we break apart. I casually walk away as if nothing has happened. The hum of talking slowly resumes. I have to admit, I did feel something.

And I hate myself for it.

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I'm simply rotten at shooting with a bow and arrow, and that's what I go for first. Later on in the day I'll hone my knife skills. This thought provokes a lurch of homesickness, and I'm forced to take a moment to shake it off. I don't want to think of what my dad must be going through, what Gentian might be going through. Or what he might not be going through.

I pull back whatever it is I think I'm supposed to pull back, and release. The arrow falls limply to the ground, about an inch from my feet. I sigh in exasperation. I knew it was going to be like this. I pick it up, frustrated, and slam it back into my bow. I pull back, and I can sense the bow is about to snap. I hardly care. I'm failing at a fundamental skill in the games. I won't last long like this. I'm about to release when I feel a gentle pair of hands on my shoulders, and it sends a tingle throughout my body. The hands stretch out to my bow, and slowly correct it's position. "There you go." a voice says, and I know it's Liham. I'm not quite as mystified now. Something about him annoys me, but some other part attracts me, and another part confuses me. It ends up all in a peculiar jumble of emotions.

Liham didn't have to say anything, it was extremely obvious what he was thinking, but he said something anyways. "Burnet, we're going to have to play this carefully." he says, correcting the way my fingers are holding the bow. He pulls back the string carefully, taking my fingers with it. "That's all," he says, and releases, walking away swiftly. As he does so, my fingers release, and so does the arrow.

It's a bull's eye.

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We're supposed to arrive at the destination in fifteen minutes. We're riding awkwardly in a helicopter, knowing that we're almost in the arena. We just see a giant stretch of blue from out of the windows. I have a feeling that the arena is a giant stretch of tundra. They're just giving away the arena with the water. The only problem is our uniforms. They're bathing suits! This makes me rethink my tundra theory. They could, of course, make burning hot snow. The gamemakers could pretty much do anything. I bounce my knee out of nervousness, looking all around the helicopter, noticing that Liham is staring steadily out of the window. What is he looking at? I peek out and see what he's seeing. Several suspicious gray triangles moving in a steady circle in the sea, and I see a slight tint of red in the water. I almost gag when I realize what it is. Sharks, and they're feeding. That's what they're trying to do. They're feeding the sharks now so they're sure we're watching them, so we know that we're playing near or in shark infested waters. I imagine myself being eaten, and it's the first scenario of my death that I've played out in my head.

Finally, we arrive, and the moment I hop out of the helicopter door, I see that we really are playing here. In fact, there are no more steps. We're really here. We're on a small dot of land surrounded by sea with twelve boats on the water's edge, and a very small cornucopia is right in the middle. All of the other contestants are already in place, some looking ready, but most looking terrified. I wait for Liham to come around the other side of the plane, and take his hand, knowing the others are watching, but also knowing that I need it. I need comfort, from pretty much anyone at this point. I'm among the majority; terrified out of my wits.

We walk over to our pedestal- a heart shaped thing, and we both stand on opposite sides of the hearts. Other contestant's pedestals look similar, some with arrows, some with cupids, but all with the same theme. We're next to the gorgeous ebony girl with a long, black braid brushed to perfection. As I glance at her, she notices me, and winks at me. I like her.

Suddenly, a voice coughs from the air. We all jump, as most of us were deep in thought. It has to be the president's voice.

"Well, this is it! I'll go over the basic rules. Do whatever you want. Kill, maim, steal, stab, shoot, whatever. Just be aware that there can be two winners as long as they're from the same district, and to remember that you are never out of our reach, and power. That's it everyone, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The horn sounded, and the 100th Hunger Games began.


	7. Of Shark Attacks and Violets

I run for a boat. Liham runs for a backpack. I know I am defenseless, and I hate it. I just duck and run. I squeal as I hear a knife slice through the air by my head, but I collapse onto the ground and the knife flies over my head, about an inch from my nose. I scramble up, grabbing the knife as I do so, and dive into a boat. Liham is right behind me. We don't need to communicate, we know that neither of us will make it in these first few hours without someone else, and since we're both here, we might as well work together. We also know that we will have to move the boat manually, since we're sure the gamemakers have been starving the sharks. I spot the engine on the tail of the boat, and quickly start it, and we're off. We're the first to leave.

We've only been moving for about ten seconds, when I hear a blood-curdling scream and see a burst of blood about fifty feet away. Someone's being attacked by a shark. I gulp, and focus foreword. That scream marks the first victim of the Hunger Games. The canon sounds, and I've made up my mind. I'm not going to die. Not today.

We move silently through the water for about another five minutes before we see a tiny dot on the horizon. I point it out to Liham, and he nods, changing the boat's direction. Then everything's silent once more. The scream of the girl being attacked by sharks replays in my head over and over, and the burst of blood haunts my thoughts. Sharks are only the first of many horrors I assume the gamemakers have planned for us. The dot on the horizon grows bigger and bigger as we cut through the water, and we can just make out trees on the now strip of green.

Eventually we're about sixty feet away, easily swimmable. Liham clears his throat, stands up, and dives off of the boat. I'm a little bit shocked, but I don't want to seem weak and have him pull me to shore. As he begins pulling the tiny little boat, I dive off. I really can't swim well, and have a hard time, but not only can Liham swim but his strength makes pulling the boat no problem. He's easily ahead of me. Several times he offers to help, but I decline, panting.

He reaches shore with me about thirty feet away from the beach, and busies himself with securing the boat to a tree. I bite my lip. I am going to do this. I know I can. I'm not weak.

Liham finishes his work, and I've hardly progressed. He glances up at me, and I give him an encouraging smile. He nods. Then something catches his eye, something behind me. I assume it's something small like a minnow jumping, or something. His eyes widen, and I glance back.

"Burnet, come on." he says with a bit of urgency, maybe a bit of annoyance, and I can see why. About seventy feet away I see at least a dozen gray fins, and they're moving steadily towards me, faster than I'm moving. I speed up. They draw nearer.

"Burnet," Liham warns, and I'm panicking a little. They're only about forty feet away, and speeding up. My muscles are wearing down, but I'm feeling an adrenaline rush, and my legs and arms are spazzing a bit. I swallow salt water and snort it out, but I can't slow down.

"Burnet! Now!" Liham yells, and starts trotting down to the water's edge. I'm fifteen feet away from shore, they're fifteen feet away from me, and they're going faster. Liham and I both know this. He cleanly dives into the water and within seconds is next to me, basically pulling me along as I begin to shut down. I've swallowed a ton of water, making me dehydrated, I'm hugely out of breath, and there's a giant pack of sharks about ten feet behind us. Our feet touch sand, and we both start half running half swimming as we rise farther and farther out of the water. They're five feet behind us, and we're up past our knees. I despise feeling helpless, putting it all in Liham's hands, but it is. As a final attempt, Liham dives onto the sand, taking me with him, and scrambles away from shore. I follow him, and we both collapse on our backs, on the sand, panting hard.

Neither of us talks. We just lie there. I can't think of anything, my mind's just blank as my adrenaline wears off. _That must've been something for the audience,_ I think cruelly, as if it were their fault I was almost eaten alive. I then remember that we must still be on camera. Determined to do anything to get something to drink, I get a brilliant idea, one potential sponsors will eat up. I roll over on the sand and collapse on Liham, planting my lips on his, and there we lie for what must be ten seconds. When I roll off and collapse onto the sand next to him, all is silent for a few seconds, and then a small poof of sand erupts into my face from my left. I glance over. It's a small silver parachute.

"Hey!" I exclaim, and I sit up, grabbing the parachute. There's not much in it. Several heart shaped cookies with one of them iced with the District 12 baker's name, and two tiny flasks of milk, but I grin. This could last us two days, and get some fat into us.

Then I notice something I hadn't originally seen. A small bouquet of flowers placed gently onto the side of the basket, tied expertly to the wooden weave. I pick them up, and sniff them. I look at them. I run my fingers over the petals. I know what these are, and a wave of sadness runs over me. In the midst of the games, I had forgotten home, and it occurs to me how horrible the last few minutes must have been to my family and friends. I place the flowers down, and cover the basket with the little cloth that had been placed over it.

They were Gentian violets.


	8. Artificial Love

I find myself annoyed a ton lately, for completely obvious reasons. Who _wouldn't_ be annoyed if they were shoved into the games, supposed to love a boy that she was determined not to fall for? We only have one cookie left for each of us. Some critter had eaten my Gentian violets, and I'd only recovered one mauled petal. There was only one stinking pineapple tree left on this whole island, which was only about a quarter of a mile both ways. The pineapples are disappearing. Some rot. Some are eaten by forest creatures. The rest we gobble down. We only have one pineapple left, and after almost a week, we know there are much more important things to worry about.

We're the audience's favorite pair, it's assumed. I kiss Liham almost twice a day, but it didn't mean as much as the kiss on the beach that first day did, to the audience. They're expecting more from us. I can only hope that there's a ton of drama on other islands, if there are other islands at all, or it can be assumed that the gamemakers have some disaster planned for us, but I know it wouldn't matter. Even if there's a bloody battle every day on other islands, the audience would want us. All we can do is prepare. For all we know, the rest of the surviving tributes could be all sailing together, searching for us, trying to kill us. We just don't know. At this point, seven have been killed. Six at the bloodbath, some District 6 girl late last night.

I spend my days mostly alone, making sure to start doing the most boring things so the cameras won't focus on me. Then I set to work, spearing pineapples with rage that I simply can't contain. How everyone's abandoning me. Gentian should have volunteered to take Liham's place, but he didn't. My mom should have taken me with her. Why didn't she? Didn't she love me at all? Sometimes I hit a really horrible thought, and reduce a pineapple to pieces, rendering it uneatable. Sometimes the knife gets stuck in a pineapple without taking it down, and I have to climb the tree to retrieve it. But sometimes it works out okay, and I get the pineapple. It's a good analogy of my life, before the Hunger Games.

I try not to be too vocal with Liham, mostly kissing, and sitting next to him, snuggling up to his shoulder. I don't really want to talk. We're both covered in dirt from scavenging, building, and other earthy activities. Neither of us dares to do into the water. Liham tried scooping up water into the boat once, but the moment the boat was put into the ocean Liham swore he'd seen fins, and that was enough for him. Yes, the absolute only thing Liham's afraid of is a grisly death by sharks.

There's a tiny stream at the opposite end of the island, but we've decided not to move over there, and just collect as much as possible and come back with it. There's no food over there, none. No trees, shrubbery, shelter, anything. We'd be fools to stay there. We're not even sure if there are animals on this island. There's an incredibly small patch of trees, and even though I could have sworn I'd heard monkeys, Liham says I'm probably imagining it.

That specific day, we both go to bed early when the storm rolls in. Liham found some dry logs and after checking them for parasites and finding them completely dry, whole and bug-free, he did some fancy work with logs and leaves and we ended up with a rather large lean-to to against an already assembled cave-like wreck of fallen trees that goes with a piece of plastic Liham found in his backpack from the cornucopia serving as tarp.

Liham's spent the whole day working, so I offer to sleep near the edge of the shelter, as one of us always has to so we don't get attacked and neither of us have a way out.

The last thing I see is a lightning bolt dart across the sky before I fall into a deep sleep.

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A clap of thunder wakes me up, and my eyes fly open, but I only twitch. At first I think I'm back home, with the seam of my blanket pressing gently and comfortably into my shoulder, staring up at a simply colored ceiling, lying on my side, warm and comfortable. Then I blink. I'm not at the mouth of our shelter. I'm where Liham lies. And it's not my blanket seam that's noticeable on my shoulder. It's Liham's strong, muscled arm. I'm confused. What happened? That's when I notice it.

The lean-to part of our shelter has been completely destroyed. It takes my eyes a couple of blinks to get accustomed to the dark. When they do though, I see that it's a fallen tree that's reduced hours of labor into splinters. Liham must have rescued me. He must have. That tree would have fallen right on me, and I would have been gone. Maybe the bolt in question woke Liham up? I must not have woken up. Why?

I remember something that my mother said, that when I'm trying to fall asleep, too many questions will make my heart rate faster, or something along those lines, and I won't be able to fall asleep. I doubt it would make my heart rate faster, but I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. So I move on.

I consider getting up, out of Liham's arms, which are wrapped around me loosely but securely, but I realize I shouldn't. I wouldn't want to offend him. Besides, I hate to admit it, but it isn't half bad. I kind of like it. As much as I'd like to say that I'm uncomfortable, I'm not. So I just close my eyes, and fall back into a deep sleep, knowing there will be many explanations needed come morning.

_* I know this is a short chapter, but I feel it's meaningful and it was a while in the works. Another action-packed one coming soon!_

_I'm gonna ask you guys to give your opinion on some things at the end of some chapters, for y'all to put in the reviews, just for the sake of opinion. I have one for today!_

_**-Q:**__ How do you physically imagine Burnet? Liham? _

_**-Q:**__ Do you prefer Gentian or Liham? _

_**-Q: **__Were you for Peeta or Gale in the real Hunger Games trilogy?_

_Well, okay, that was three, but it'll normally be one, if any at all :)_


	9. A Yellow, Blue, and Green Blur

I hate Liham. I really do. For making me feel like this, for making me so conflicted. He's a far better person than I am, we both know it. This morning was when it all went down. It was as if it were rehearsed, and he'd been debating ways to sound like the best person at heart that he possibly could.

"Liham, could you imagine killing someone?" I'd asked as I ate my pineapple. He swallowed, and a troubled expression came over his face. He sat there for a moment, as if having to seriously think it over, but his answer was so straightforward.

"No, I really can't. I get the feeling that every single horrible person at least dislikes the horrible part in them. Every person does want to do some good, every person wants to help, somewhere. I couldn't kill someone. Imagine, just taking away something a person's spent decades on, in a matter of seconds? And for my own selfish reasons? I can't," he said, and I bit my lip. My answer would have been the fair opposite, and for a few moments, I hated myself.

That's how I came to hate Liham.

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It's been two weeks. The creek's drying up. There's been little action besides the tree episode, which turned out to be me sleepwalking and as Liham woke up he noticed I was shivering, so took me over with him. Neither of us woke up to the tree falling. So we've been discussing how we think we'll be attacked. We've been considering sharks with legs. A month ago I would have laughed my head off at the loser who suggested a thing, but now it's plausible, at least. We've come up with some other things, but we've had to admit that we simply have no idea. The one thing we feel confident about is that the disaster we're anticipating will draw us closer to other contestants in some way.

We're both very frail. We're living on a piece of pineapple a day. We're down to our last couple of pieces, and last sips of water. Something has to be done, and fast. Tonight, we sit around the two twigs and a wisp or orange and smoke that we'd like to call our fire, and hold out our hands. All is silent. The sky is just barely beginning to darken, and I feel uneasy.

I'm about to speak when the fire goes out, and not only do we go still but the whole forest does. This lasts for a few moments. Then comes an earsplitting shriek of thousands of birds, all squawking at the same time. It's horrible. Liham and I both fall to the ground, rolling into a ball and pressing our hands to our ears so hard I think my ears might bleed. Then it stops, only a second before it happens.

We stand up, and we fall back down. The island is slowly moving in a circular motion, not too fast, but enough to knock us to the ground. It's a very strange sound, like a low rumble. I get a rush of adrenaline, and I panic, scrambling over to Liham, and I clutch his hand in a death grip. He doesn't pull away.

As the speed at which the island is spinning quickens, the trees start bending into awkward positions, loose sand flies everywhere, and twigs begin bouncing around. It's gets faster, faster, faster until I can't see. It's all a blue, yellow, and green blur. I scream, and I can hear Liham yell in a lower voice, but he does the same. All the islands need is to speed up, and we're gone. And it does.

Liham and I scream in surprise as it goes what must be over a hundred miles per hour by a lot, and suddenly comes to a stop. We go flying ten, twenty, thirty feet in the air. There's no way this is possible. All I can hear is my own terrified scream. I go farther, farther, farther, and I think of Liham. He's not in the little patch of area that I can see at the moment. Where is he?

Green fades to yellow, and yellow fades to blue. All I can see is ocean. I'm sailing fast over ocean for ten long seconds before I begin to drop. My scream escalates. I'm getting closer and closer to the water, and my mind clears in the moment. _Okay Burnet, get into a pencil position, point your toes, hands to your side, hold your breath._ Big mistake. I sink like a stone. I start scrambling wildly, but I'm already forty feet under water and although I'm slowing, I'm still moving, and making little progress with my frantic paddling. I'm too weak. I tire in a matter of seconds, and my muscles slow down. Eventually I get dizzy, and just stop struggling, and close my eyes.

My eyes are closed for hardly a second when something latches onto my hand, and my eyes fly open, then I relax. It's a hand. It's obviously Liham's. He'll save me again. This thought makes me feel guilty. I shouldn't always rely on him. I owe him big time.

Around this time I black out.

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I wake up blinking in the sunlight, trying to adjust. How long have I been out? Where's Liham? It's around this time that I realize that I'm my back, floating on water. I panic. My first thought is not drowning, or the pressure I must be putting on Liham, if he's here, I can't see from my position. It's not that I can't move, it's just that I'm to tired and weak.

My main concern are the sharks. We're two bags of bones with some chewy, tender, wrinkly skin. Easy to pick off. I feel my eyes shutting naturally, but I fight to stay awake. It's not fair to Liham, if he's here, but I know I need it. Without sleep, I'll shut down within just a few hours. So I close my eyes, and let sleep subdue me.


	10. In The Ocean

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that nothing has changed. Absolutely nothing. I'm in the exact same position I was before. I suppose this is a good thing, since this means Liham's doing something right to protect us. There's a sudden itch on my back, and I twist my arm back to scratch it, and discover I can do so with ease. The rest has done me some serious good, and I've regained most of my strength. The first thing I do is flip my body into a vertical position, stretching and yawning, closing my eyes.

"Hey Liham, how far from shore are we?" I ask loudly, and after a few seconds of silence, I open my eyes, and squeal. Liham's not there. In his place is a muscular brunette boy with high cheekbones and a large assortment of freckles. He's staring at me like I'm a lunatic. I stare at him right back. Technically, he should be trying to kill me. Why save me? I'm sure besides my ability to catch fish that I am of no use to him. Unless that's exactly what he needs.

I'm actually tempted to laugh at our exchange of expressions, but it would be simply too weird under the circumstances. I relax my face, but I take a few strokes back, and immediately struggle to stay afloat, which is embarrassing. I try to force my thrashing arms under water so it won't be so obvious I'm a rotten swimmer, but to no avail. The pale skinned boy quickly swims foreword, expertly cutting through the water, and places his hands on my hips, but I pull away from him with a disgusted look on my face. What was he trying to imply? I'd met him, literally, less than a minute ago. I thrashed away from him, and the poor guy looked generally hurt. Maybe he didn't know the move was suggestive. Maybe he was really trying to help. What district could he possibly be from where this was not considered suggestive? I soften my face, but a new thought comes to me. What if I'm just replacement meat for when the sharks come?

I have no idea how to strike up a conversation with this kid, but I decide to give it a try. I clear my throat.

"Wh- who are _you_?" I ask demandingly, and don't regret it. He straightens, and looks very official and superior as he does so. I try to copy him, as I don't want him to feel superior in this situation, but just humiliate myself by dropping like a stone. I straighten myself out and lie flat on my back, as floating will humiliate me less than my current state. He clears his own throat, clearly puzzled.

"Uhm, Acton Dark, District 11. No need to tell me you're that Burnet girl," he says, and starts making circles in the water with his finger. "By the way, we're not alone. Chanua's finding fish somewhere. No worries, she has a GPS, she can get back to us," he says, but I was not worrying about Chanua's GPS. I'm worrying about being the only one who doesn't know either of the people she's with. And in this game, that's important.

"Hey," I say and switch my attention to him, "did you see anyone else? Anyone at all?" I ask hopefully, and his answer is immediate.

"Oh yeah, Chanua found some other tributes, about five or six, a mile or so from us. Let's just hope the sharks are after them, not us!" he says, and relaxes on his back, floating as I do. His words scare me. If Liham isn't dead already, he will be soon. I think I might fall asleep again, but I'm far too awake for that. I close my eyes and float for a bit, before a horrible thought comes to my head, and my head snaps up.

"Sharks!" I exclaim, and he doesn't move. I know he's heard me. "Hello?" I ask. He begins to laugh. This makes me feel like I've done something wrong, and I feel hostile.

"Burnet, with all of your movement, you'll attract all of the sharks for miles around. Just say still, and pray to The Capitol. Soften them up," he says, and I'm shocked. Why did he just say that? The capitol is probably furious with him, turning vegetarian monkeys into rabid, carnivorous, swimming monkeys that will come after us! Or something.

But I take his advice, relaxing on by back again, and just stare at the clouds for a bit. Then there's a sudden itch on my lips. I flick my tongue over it, just to discover they're horribly cracked and my tongue dry with dehydration. I'd felt it before, just never really thought about it. The more I patted my lips and tongue, the worse I suspected it was. I was thirsty, with no land, in the middle of the ocean.

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The next thing I know, Chanua's back, and I recognize her immediately. She has long, jet black, silky hair tied back in a braid down to her waist, with flawless olive skin and ebony eyes. I'd seen her when the games began, the sixty seconds before the game began. Her hands are cupped, supporting a pile of shellfish that can probably feed the three of us for three days. My eyes feast upon them, imagining the juice, when I realize that shellfish will have salty water, without any fresh water in sight. And yet, when she arrives, we barely glance at each other, and we feast. When we're all three done munching on shellfish meat, we glance up at each other, slowly.

"I'm Burnet. District t-" I begin, and Chanua interrupts.

"I know. District 12. I'm Chanua. District 9," she announces loudly, and frivolously paddles in the water, doing underwater flips and little games to amuse herself. I stare at her for a while, deciding that she annoys me. Truthfully, she's not too annoying. Anyone in her situation would be grumpy. But then she goes and has fun like this- it's just confusing. I settle back onto my back, and fall back asleep.

I'm only asleep for a few minutes when pure thirst wakes me up, and the first thing I do is moan. Immediately, a small parachute shoots down from the sky and a flask of water lands on my nose. I snatch it up, instinctively taking an immediate sip, when I remember Acton and Chanua. I call out, sounding like a crow with my broken voice, but it catches their attention.

"Hey! Water!"

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_Steady arms cut through the water, left, right, left right, reminding they who they belonged to keep moving. For her, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He didn't know where she was. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like forever._

_He travels for a while before stopping to rest, wiping his forehead of sweat, only to bathe it in salt. He sighs. Great thinking. How is he going to find her? He knows she's not already dead, but in the dead of night, probably during a feeding hour, she could be soon. He looks around, distracted, when something brushes against his foot, and he freezes, terrified. He knows what it is. It's already obvious._

_He can just make out a shape in the distance, but he has to blink several times to absorb it. One side, then another… and it all comes together. A triangle, cutting effortlessly into the water thirty feet in front of him. Hungry for blood._

_He was among a pack of sharks, around feeding hour._


	11. Behind Closed Doors

Right now, I don't need food, water, or sleep. What I need is safety. My skin is getting horribly wrinkly, and I just pick the worst spots and dry them in the sun until they're smooth again, then find another spot that needs drying. As a result, I'm never in the same spot for more than an hour. I've heard that skin can begin to peel off if it's kept wet too long, which would just be too good of a deal for these hungry sharks, but it's only a matter of time.

This morning, Acton told Chanua and I that he had an idea, but he needed to think over it alone, so he's about thirty feet away, just floating, staring into space, thinking over something. Chanua's giving me swimming lessons, and I'm getting better, but not nearly good enough to stop floating on my back and just rely on my feet and hands. Chanua says that I just have to practice. For some reason, Chanua doesn't seem to like me, and as a result I don't seem to like her. We both sort of cling to Acton for positive attitudes, well, as much as I can for someone I'm still not sure I can trust.

Finally, after three straight hours of thinking and swimming lessons, Acton slowly get up and paddles over to us. We immediately stop whatever we're doing. We can tell this is important.

"Chanua, your GPS please?" he asks, and both of our faces lose the excited expressions as Chanua hands the GPS over and Acton paddles back to his little spot. What could Acton possibly be doing?

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The second time Acton paddles over to us, we can tell that it's time. He takes a deep breath, and presses a button on the GPS.

"Okay, so I'm going to have to type it out on the GPS and then give it to you guys to read," he said, and handed me the GPS. On it Acton had typed the words "the capitol cant hear us". I handed it to Chanua, and she handed it back to Acton. He began furiously typing on it, and handed it back to me.

"We're busting outta here," it said, and after Chanua read it she handed it back to him. He began typing once more.

"It's gonna be dangerous. We'll have to catch a ride on a shark," he typed, and I gasped and nearly dropped the thing when I read it. Chanua's eyes just widened, but she dutifully handed it back to Acton. He resumed typing, and did so for a while this time.

"Legally, the Capitol isn't allowed to bar sharks in here, since it's protected, or whatever. So the force field can't contain sharks. It also can't contain things touching the shark, because of those little fish that nest on shark's bellies. So all we have to do is get onto sharks or some other critter in here and take a free ride out, but we have to act like we don't know we're doing it," he typed, and this time Chanua and I both did the same thing. Bit our lips, scrunched our eyes, and sighed.

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Acton's the mastermind here, so we're planning our escape based on what he says. We'll wait it out for a few days, and if sharks don't pop up, we'll go looking for them. If dolphins or orcas or some other tamable fish show up, we'll take our chances and hop on them. Other than that, we're collecting as much food as we can to feed the sharks to try and make them full- so they won't eat us. We know it's a very last-minute attempt, probably too little too late, and not possible, but it's all we've got.

Lately I've been staying up very late, checking the anthem, making sure Liham doesn't appear in the skies. We've only been stranded out here for three days, but I had a bad feeling about last night. Just after the anthem. They stopped doing canons after the bloodbath because of the sharks, so Liham could very well be dead right now, and I wouldn't know it.

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_In the dead of the night, the boy swims faster, faster, trying to escape the gray triangles that are slowly closing in on him. He skims the surface, hardly a ripple escaping from underneath him, but they obviously see him. He can only hope they're not hungry. But the gamemakers wouldn't do that. They'd already killed so many tributes by way of shark. Why not him?_

_He sees a triangle not ten feet away from him, and barely holds in a scream. This is it. The end is near. Isn't there anything else he could do?_

_Maybe she needs him. She can't swim, but neither can many other tributes. He hadn't seen her in the skies, but the sharks are out and about this night, and he's about to be eaten by some. His heart beats faster, faster, until he swears it could beat right out of his chest. Four triangles circle around him, maintaining a ten foot distance for almost one minute, until one changes course._

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*Yet another short but meaningful chapter. Question time!

_1. What do you think of the two new characters?_

_2. Do you think the dying boy is Liham?_

_3. Do you think Acton's plan is going to work, will they change it, or will they die trying?_


	12. It Must Be Done

The very first flake of skin has peeled off of Chanua's arch on her right foot, and she's devastated. She sees herself as a helpless molded butter sculpture who's constantly melting. Of course, I'd told her she should find the pruniest spot on her body and dry it out, then switch, but she was insistent upon using her own survival methods, not something that somebody else came up with. Hers? Keep her hands in her mouth, and her toes curled, and keep swimming. That's worked out horribly for her.

We have to be careful when scheming, since we're sure they've introduced invisible flying cameras or something, so we only plan on the GPS, and there are only a few safe angles to hold the GPS at. We also have to manage it all without making it look like we're scheming, and without making it look like we're trying to hide something, but it's tough. Acton let something slip once, but Chanua smoothly covered for him with a laugh and a sparkly smile.

It's hard, but it must be done.

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_The boy scrambles, trying desperately to get away from the sharks that are getting closer in proximity with every stroke. His heart pounds, he's shaking with fear, imagining what could happen to him, but there's no point. He can't just give up. It's fight or die. He might die either way, so what's the point in not fighting when it raises the odds of survival?_

_A shark changes course, heading in for the kill. "C'mon Liham, c'mon Liham…" the boy encourages himself as the shark draws nearer. At about three feet away, the boy grunts and raises his hand, bringing it down on the shark's nose and eyes so hard he's surprised blood wasn't drawn. The shark changes course again, shaking it's head madly and swimming off. Another one heads for the boy, and the boy does the same thing, with the same results. _I might live yet, _the boy thinks gleefully, and gets a rush of adrenaline. He kicks out at the next shark, truly drawing blood and creating a frenzy. The sharks sensed one among them was injured, and they were so hungry they'd do anything for food. Turning on one of their own kind, they went in for the kill. But not on the boy._

_Swim, swim, swim. You have to swim._

_The boy turns away, and that's when he sees a figure swimming gracefully towards him, but the figure does not look shark like. In fact, it's rather human like._

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The sun has finally gotten to me. It hasn't gotten to tan Acton or olive Chanua, but I'm relatively pale, and am starting to fry. My face is tomato red and starting to peel, and it's getting a bit more painful to move every minute in the sun. Sometimes the salt water helps, but I can't keep any part of my body above water or below water for too long. It's a delicate thing to balance, but I don't feel like turning into a french fry. I never thought feet could get burned, but my feet need to stay exceptionally dry, since I rub them around a lot.

I've tried looking into the clear water, but it stings my eyes. I can see that we're nowhere close to the bottom, which I can't even clearly see, and the sand doesn't slope, from what I can see.

The anthem has reported around four deaths in the last two days, most likely all by sharks. I haven't seen Liham, yet. From what I think I remember from the long nights with Liham, there are five more tributes left, not counting me, Acton, and Chanua.

I've begun to get along with Chanua, kind of. When I look at her, I can still see annoyance flash across her face, but it's quickly replaced by a small smile. I'm still not sure if that smile is kind or malicious, but it's still a smile. We both think of Acton as the peacekeeper. Without him, neither of us would have lasted two days, for many reasons, mainly consisting of reasons along the lines of strangling each other, and lack of common sense.

You could say I miss Liham, and you'd be painfully right. I feel sappy, hopeless, and disgustingly romantic and needy, but I do sort of miss him. Then again, I also miss Hunter, so I guess I'm a bit desperate right now. Most of all, I miss Gentian. I don't go a day without thinking of him several times. What must it be like, seeing your best friend dying, not able to help them? Seeing your best friend killing in order to stay alive, when _you_ know it's hopeless? The design of the game is disgusting. We're children, and anyone who's not a child is not allowed to compete. That's the biggest issue. We're _killing other children_. I saw the twelve year old in the skies last night. Who killed her? I wouldn't have had the heart.

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_Red blood spreads into a plume around the boy, and he gulps, remembering the blood plume when he took off from the starting island in the boat, the horrifying scream of someone's last moments. It was only a bit less dramatic that the blood was from a shark, not him, but it just proved how desperate and able these sharks were. He began swimming the other way, away from the oncoming human figure. Behind him, the figure spoke, in a feminine voice._

_"Wait! I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Sashah. You're Liham," she said, and paused, "I can help you."_

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One more question!

Who do you think should play Katniss in the upcoming Hunger Games movie?

Just out of curiosity! I've been a bit obsessed in this over the past few days.

Personally, I think it should be Kaya Scodelario or Alexandra Daddario, maybe, NOT Kristen Stewart or Chloe Moretz! No comment on Kristen, but I love Chloe, but she's just not Katniss, sorry. Or some unknown actress, maybe! I'd like that.

Thanks! ^_^


	13. Unlucky Chapter 13

The mission has come to a standstill. We have everything planned out- the spot we're going to try to direct the shark to, the way we're going to travel, possible places we may land, who rides with who, everything. The only problem will be surviving the mission. Acton, Chanua and I can't think of a way that we would survive hopping onto a shark and riding it out to sea, then letting go of the shark and having it swim _away_ from us. But just this morning, something happened that just about saved our lives.

We'd just finished unsuccessfully pondering over how to survive our mission when I hear a little plop behind me, and whip around, ready to punch a shark. Instead, there is a little floatable, silver parachute, similar to the one I'd recieved with water. I'm not ready to thank Mallie yet, but I have a feeling this is a good one.

I paddle over to it, and eagerly throw off the little kitchen cloth topping the bowl. In the bowl lies a pile of twenty or so magnets, and three cookies with little sharks painted onto them. I sigh. This changes everything.

"Hey, Acton, Chanua, cumm'eer." I call for them, and they both gracefully paddle over. I grab the GPS and type out a message, showing it both to them.

"Maybe we should start planning in a code language."

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_The boy tips his head, a bit confused. Who's this girl, and why does she want to help him? The girl draws a long, rectangular thing out of some carrying pack and approaches him with it. The boy no longer thinks this is a good idea, and keeps swimming. Who knows what she plans to do with that? Club him? _

_"Wait! I'm not going to hurt you!" she calls out, and turns on a shark. This makes the boy turn, out of curiosity. She couldn't possibly be trying to club the sharks to death, could she? She presses a button on the side of the thing and light shoots out of it, scaring the boy, but he doesn't look away, or budge. His heart is beating a bit faster. If this is what he thinks it is, then they are saved. The light lets out a small, almost inaudible humming noise, and the girl suddenly shoots out her hand with the light, and the humming noise escalates for an instance as she electrocutes the shark. All is silent for a moment, then the pack all swims away, leaving a few charred bones and pieces of their past comrade and a pool of blood for Liham and Sashah to enjoy._

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We've decided to wait it out two more days, in the hopes that something lucky will happen, but we all know that's not the real reason we're delaying the mission. We all know that one of us is going to die, it's inevitable, and we're cowards, putting off death. Well, Chanua and I are. Acton just wants to keep us alive, hoping that something will arrive that will help him do that. The magnets help, but it might not be enough.

Of course, Acton knows that magnets are a shark repellent. He knows there was an abandoned study done on it, years ago, by the Capitol, but people on the coast simply couldn't hear about it, or there would be all kinds of consequences. When we summon the sharks with bleeding fish, we just cover ourselves with magnets and hold some out, then they'll be conflicted, and we'll take our chance. Sure, it's risky, but it's our final plan.

This particular night is a night of the full moon, signifying we've been here for about three weeks, if I know what I'm talking about. After learning the basics, I give myself swimming lessons instead of having Chanua teach me. I'm paddling around a bit, thinking about the plan. What if I die, then what will Hunter do? Will he have the initiative to step up and help dad get by? If the plan works, and dad is a helpless drunkard, I'm kicking Hunter's-

There's a noise from just within our realm of vision. Acton is sleeping, but Chanua is wide awake, and we both straighten up and glance at each other, keeping stock still, not creating any splashes. We hear talking, a girl talking, from quite a distance away. We both stiffen. We can see two dots on the dark horizon, black against the navy sky. My breathing gets heavier, Chanua's becomes nonexistent. They grow closer, the girl still talking, and I can make out heads and shoulders now. I can hear bits of their conversation.

"Sharks…cornucopia…alliances….swam off." the girl said, and it was silent for a moment. The figures stopped moving, and straightened too. I can tell they've seen us. What do we do now? Swim closer? Who are these people? Chanua picks up the gps, which is truly very heavy and could knock someone out with the right hit. After they're knocked out, all that needs be done is strangulation, and they're finished.

Chanua signals that I begin swimming, and we both do. The figures in front of us are whispering, and I begin to make out more details. One's a boy, one's a girl. I focus on the girl. Her long hair reaches the water, and it's not all the same color. She's whispering to the boy, who has very light hair, tan skin, and blue spiraling eyes…

I shriek, "Liham!" and stop swimming. The two both stop whispering. All is silent. Chanua was literally in mid-throw, her arm is poised in an arc in the air, the gps clutched tightly in her hands. I have to explain, and fast, for Chanua isn't the trusting type. In fact, Acton had a lot of explaining to do about my background before Chanua trusted _me_.

But I don't know what to say. Well, first things first, I have to prevent a death I really don't want happening. "Chanua, this is Liham, my ally. He's from District 12 too," I say, and Chanua's eyes narrow. Time for a bit of fibbing. "He was my friend- before the games," I lie, and she relaxes. Then I remember something I haven't thought about in days. We're supposed to be in love! It's our strategy! Whether it's working or not, I'm not sure, but the whole affair has brought some attention to me for a bit, and gotten me some sponsors. I swim towards Liham, and he must not remember, for he looks a bit confused, but maybe it's the expertise I'm showing with my swimming. I draw my legs around his waist, bringing me momentarily above him, and pull him close, drawing him into a kiss. He seems to remember now, and whether it's fake or real, the kiss is convincing. I pull away, but nestle myself at his side, and there's a little splash that sprays us both, signifying a parachute. I fold back the cloth from the top, and there lie a pile of twenty or so heart shaped cookies, exactly the same type as Liham and I had recieved on the island. I hold one up for Chanua to see.

"Chanua, cookies," I say, and her puzzled and betrayed look softens into one of understanding. She knows it's an act. I place the cookie back in it's spot, and take another glance at the basket. It's exactly the same, except for one thing.

There are no Gentian violets.

_*Warning- I've changed the title and summary of this story, the new title is Not a Follower, so don't be alarmed when some random story alert pops up in your inbox; that's just this story._


	14. Symbolism & Freedom

I've been fretting terribly since the absence of the violets was discovered. What if the basket was sent signifying the Capitol knew about our plan, and had kidnapped Gentian? Were the cookies never from District 12? Or am I just being a worry wart, and the flowers had come loose on the trip down?

I settle with the latter, and begin my search for the violets, floating on the water in my imagination. I search all afternoon, doing soft strokes, covering the expanse of water more than once, desperately searching for hope that nothing has happened to Gentian, that everything is as it should be in District 12. Then again, nothing will ever be normal again. I'm clinging to hope that the one thing I enjoyed back home is safe.

Sometimes I catch the eye of one of the others, and their eyes look sad, but most of all, Liham's look sad, pitiful, and something else. After catching the person's eye, I focus back on the water, with no intention of looking back up.

The one thing we need most of all right now is food. Sure, we have the cookies, but right now our bodies need nothing of what the cookies provide, and we haven't found clam meat or any other meat in days. Just a slab of ham, heck, a dry spinach leaf would do right now. I know there's only one way to get something from sponsors. And that answer has blonde hair and a sloppy grin.

I halt, watching the ripples in the water spread farther, farther, until the water's mostly smooth again. I just stand there for a moment, breathing heavily, thoughts racing through my head so fast I can't identify them, but they're there.

I slowly make my way over to where Liham's floating, fiddling with the GPS, probably scouring our surroundings for nearby tributes. The thing isn't a GPS, really, all it doesn't have is the internet. I stop, about ten feet away from him, thinking about how I'm going to do this, how far I should go. Nothing too bad, surely, but not the normal seven second kissing. Then, a stupid, frivolous thought comes to my head. At what angle should I hold my head? I think about it. Tip my head to the right, definitely.

I glance around. Chanua is giving Sashah lessons on the butterfly stroke, and Acton is sleeping. They're all at least thirty feet away. We should have some privacy. Well, as private as a televised romance can get.

The sky is getting darker, it's its usual navy, but streaked with shades of pink, purple, orange, and the occasional blue. It's rather pretty, but unless I'm super close to someone, I can only make out a silhouette, with my poor eyesight. Well, I know I'll be close enough to Liham to count how many hairs make up his eyebrow. I take a deep breath, and carry on, swimming up to him, and the moment he lifts his head, acknowledges me, straightens and is no longer on his back, I gently reach out and do the same I did before, gently wrap my legs around his waist, trying to be as swift as possible, and gently press my forehead against his. He gingerly puts his hands on my torso, and I loosely wrap my arms around his neck, my lips just inches from his. With no physical strain, we're both breathing heavily. He's maintained his muscularity all this time with his constant swimming, and isn't fazed by my weight. It's been reduced enough as it is.

I'm caught up in the moment, as passionate as it is. "I love you," I say, and my eyes widen. Did I just say that? Well, it must have been the performer side of me, always one for the cameras. Liham's equally as shocked, and I can't read his expression, but he knows that outburst wasn't like me. Again, his face doesn't lack emotion, there's just such a messy jumble of emotion, I can't recognize anything. I don't even know what I'm thinking.

I'm too shocked at what I just said, I just stay there, and it takes hardly a second for something to happen. This time, Liham makes his move, leans foreword, opens his mouth, and kisses me. It's something he's never done before, taken initiative, kissed _me_. Of course, I react, with the same power, the same passion. It doesn't feel fake, but it doesn't feel real. I'm just doing it, and it feels _good_. We stay there for who knows how long, seconds, minutes, hours maybe, but when we break apart, it feels like it lasted for too short a time. I blink, and our faces are so close I blink on Liham's eyelashes. My mom used to call them butterfly kisses, but that was when I was three. That was before she ran away.

Liham cups the back of my head in his hand, and slowly kisses my forehead, then his hands travel slowly down my back, stopping short of my waist, sending chills through my body. We stay there for a moment, not knowing what else to do, then I think of the realism of our true life or death situation, the real world, how everyone I know and love could possibly be at risk, and I let go.

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Today's the day. The. Day. We've decided to execute the mission. Sashah is unfairly skeptical about the plan, and Chanua is very frustrated with her for it. Chanua's contributed a great deal to this plan, and she doesn't like Sashah for barging in and criticizing the plan. In fact, if not for Liham, Sashah would probably have a GPS sticking out of her head by now. Liham hasn't said a word on his opinion on the plan, just nods of understanding, but there's fear in his eyes. He and I both know at least one of us won't come out unscathed.

We've found the nearest land mass on the GPS, and it's a small little inlet on the coast of Spain. I personally think this is a bad spot to swim to. Spain? They's forty miles away. That's forty miles of straight swimming. Sashah and I might not be able to do that.

Acton's passed out five magnets for each of us, and Chanua has the electrocuter. She's the least afraid of sharks. Right now, we're basically just splashing around, screaming underwater, and Chanua's cutting up the rotten fish we've had for days, watching the blood spread into the water. Then we all stop moving. All is silent. That's when Chanua spots it.

"There! Three shark fins!" she calls out, and all is silent again. She's right; there are three gray triangles at least a hundred feet away, swimming steadily closer. We don't get a good look at them, but they look relatively small. What have we gotten ourselves into?

All is silent for a few more seconds before Acton calls out urgently, "Get together! Now!"

We all swim together, all five of us, huddled into one big pack. I'm not near Liham, but Acton and Chanua are pressed against my sides, and I'm facing inward. Everyone but Sashah and I are facing outward.

"There's another one!" Sashah calls, pointing to something to my right, and sure enough, there's another shark to my right, about a hundred feet away. The two sharks that were first spotted are drawing nearer, and Chanua flings the fish she's been slitting apart as far as she can, and it lands about fifty feet away- just behind the sharks. They're lingering there. For now.

For a few moments it's just that shark seventy feet away and those two sharks fifty feet away, preoccupied with eating, and everything is silent, relaxed. Then Sashah lets out a shriek, and points behind me. Nobody was looking behind me.

"BURNET, LOOK OUT!" she squeals, and Chanua whips around, facing behind me, and I do the same thing. There's a gray fin, not three yards away from me, and swimming closer. Chanua turns on the electrocuter, and sticks it out. I've been in this situation before. A shark five feet away from me, nothing I can do, and someone swoops in and saves me. This wasn't what it was like back home. I was the tough girl who fended for herself alongside her best guy friend, the knife-throwing tom boy. Being the frilly, needy girl bothers me.

The rest is a blur. Chanua does some fancy work with the electrocuter, everyone but me whips out their magnets, the sharks get all confused. Everything is going as planned, until Acton gets a good look at one of the 'sharks'. Acton bursts into a fit of laughter, and everyone turns to look at him, with a freaked out expression on their face. Why would he be laughing, of all times _now_? He points to the body of the shark, and all of our eyes follow his finger to see the shark _jumping._ All is silent for a moment, until I speak. What I say pretty much sums up what everybody's thinking.

"What the hell?"

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So, yeah, these "sharks" are actually dolphins, and friendly ones, at that. Acton's really afraid that the plan's been ruined, that it won't work with dolphins, but really, I'm pleased. Dolphins can't rip my guts out. Sharks can.

Right now, we're keeping around the biggest dolphin. We're all going to latch onto him, and travel the couple of yards it takes to make it out of the force field circle, then we'll let it go. It's a completely new plan, and an equally unpredictable one, but it increases our odds of surviving.

Early in the afternoon, Acton calls us over. "OKAY! So, we're going to hop onto the dolphin, and hopes he leads us to _food,_" he says, and we understand. We can't voice our plan aloud, or the capitol will be suspicious. Of course, I think they already are, but the rest of the group shot that idea down optimistically.

"Let's GO!" he calls, and none of us move. Really, we're not sure what to do. The dolphin's busying himself three yards away with a strand of seaweed, but we don't know how to contain him. We all look around, as if expecting someone else to step forth bravely and hop onto the dolphin. Nobody does. Chanua sighs.

"You big babies. Do I have to do everything?" she exclaims, exasperated, and swims toward the dolphin, who doesn't suspect a thing. Chanua snatched the seaweed from it's nose, and it squeaks. Chanua swings one leg over the dolphin and struggles to stay on almost immediately, feeling the oddness of the slippery skin.

"Seeee…. i-i-i-it's… fine…" she says, her voice wavering and bobbing as the dolphin fidgets, but the poor creature doesn't seem to be bothered by her presence. Liham immediately swims foreword, puffing out his chest, determined to impress. He glances at me, and then takes strong strokes over to the wiggling creature, and lazily drapes an arm over it's tail end, and fails miserably. I have the strong urge to do something stupid, like _giggle_, of all things. No, Burnet doesn't giggle, but I almost do.

Acton then steps foreword, then Sashah, until there's just me. I gulp. Here goes. I swim foreword and find a spot, wiggling between Liham and Sashah. Chanua brandishes the piece of seaweed the dolphin had been playing with, balls it up, and throws it several feet ahead of her. Right on cue, the dolphin lunges foreword, and all three of us girls squeal. We then burst into our own little fits of laughter, actually having _fun_. I'm the first to stop, remembering that what we're doing could very well end in death, and if we're not permitted through the field, we very well could be killed.

Once we stop giggling, Chanua snatches the seaweed from atop the dolphin's nose, and we travel another twenty feet. Then another, and another, and another. Chanua throws the seaweed strip again, but it hits some invisible force about three feet from the dolphin's nose, and we all freeze in shock, but then Chanua speaks.

"Where did it go?" she asks curiously. We all follow her lead, making comments about where it could have gone, where we're going, and the weather. The Capitol can't get suspicious, at least, any more suspicious. We all take some form of a deep breath, and Chanua urges the dolphin on.

The dolphin barrels foreword, and nothing happens. The dolphin travels five, ten, fifteen feet before any of us open our eyes, and when we do, Sashah squeals. No more cameras, no more caution, no more televised opinions, we're free!

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*_This may not be one of my best chapters, but it's SO HUGE in the story I think the story part is mostly what matters…?_

_*If anyone was wondering, Sashah has slightly tan skin, quite a few freckles, and naturally brown, thick hair past her shoulders by a bit with bangs and red dyed streaks about 1/2 an inch thick. ;)_


	15. Kidnapped

*_This will be the only chapter where they're swimming… since really, 5 chapters of MORE swimming would get tiring, and I have SO much story to tell on land!_

The first thing we do is start swimming. With several miles to cover, we can't afford to hesitate. We're up against some serious challenges; sharks, dehydration, jellyfish, and most of all, the Capitol. We're free of the cameras and they gave up trackers years ago because of medical complications caused by the shot about five years ago. Even so, we can only imagine the technology the capitol has, and we don't even doubt that they know where we are right now. We're certainly all the rage back in the districts. What's the Capitol's cover story this time? It was a huge mistake, letting sharks, dolphins, and _things that cling to them_ through the force field.

We're all still jittery over our victory, but now we're swimming towards Spain, in hopes we can catch a boat to the Districts. I swim next to Acton, listening to him babble all day about scientific theories and how we came about, and I feel rather like a mother. He needs this right now. He's been the leader, the father, planning everything, but he's scared too. I was surprised to learn that Acton's only 15, and so is Sashah. Chanua is 18, naturally, and Liham and I are almost 17. I'd never really thought about age before. The only person who doesn't act older is Sashah, and she acts her age. I think it's because we've all been forced to grow up so fast, make life and death decisions, think about what we want out of life. We've been swimming for a day, and it's very draining, physically and mentally. Acton and I are doing better than anyone mentally, for we have something thrilling and interesting to talk about, while the other three swim in silence, left to their thoughts. Physically, I'm a wreck. I just let Acton do the talking; his tongue isn't near dry, and I'm parched. Every stroke for me requires some internal urging, and I really don't think I have much longer.

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Liham swims next to me now, ready to dive if I suddenly drop. Acton doesn't talk as often. It's usually just us and the sea, Chanua fiddling with the GPS and howling directions at us, as if we are deaf. She probably shouldn't do that.

It's the middle of the afternoon and the sun is at it's worst, shining down on us, unrelenting, slowly frying our skin, and we could feel it, just when we thought we were free of sunburn. Chanua's mumbling to herself, fiddling mindlessly with the GPS. We stop for the first time in hours, floating on our backs, staring into the blue sky, hoping we don't burn any more.

That's when Sashah sees it. "Hey, guys, check it out! A helicopter! To rescue us!" she wails, and gets off her back, waving her arms frantically, as if the people in the helicopter held the answers to life. Chanua joined in, and Liham got off his back, the two girls giggling hysterically and calling out odd things, Liham waving, looking a bit drunk. I glance at Acton, and our eyes lock into each others. The people in the helicopter aren't here to rescue us. They're here to kidnap us.

"Guys! Shut _up!_" I wail, and this catches Liham's attention, and our eyes lock. He sees it too, but the girls don't. There's nothing we can do. They're being driven a bit mad, and are so desperate for safety they've fooled themselves into believing the helicopter will save them. The helicopter draws closer, and the Capitol seal is clearly visible on the side of the familiar gray helicopter. The girls can't ignore this, and they both fall silent, eyes wide. Yeah, they know they were idiots. The helicopter draws closer, closer, and I can see some mechanics moving underneath it. I'm not the only one who spots it.

"Burnet…" Sashah says, and I'm very surprised. Her tone is scared, worried, like a child's, and she associates that with me? I feel suddenly protective of Sashah, and I swiftly swim foreword, doing the only thing I can think of.

"Deep breath," I tell her, and give her a chance to do so. Then, I stuff her below the surface and paddle in front of her, just in time. I'm next to Chanua, and I can see the helicopter pilot from where I'm staying afloat, an evil glint in his eye, as he lets down a ladder, and I gasp. Nearly a dozen men zoom down the ladders and leap into the air, lading right in front of us. Almost all of us let out some cry of surprise, and start swimming in the other direction, but me and Chanua are closest. One of us isn't continuing on.

One of the men reaches out and catches Chanua's kicking foot with ease, and she lets out a terrified scream that almost none of us can hear. Combined with the loud thumping noise the helicopter makes, and the water in our ears as we swim faster, faster, I'm the only one that notices. I turn around, unable to say a thing, but scream and scream. I'm probably watching Chanua's death sentence. The men all grab her and haul her onto the lowest ladder step, and the ladder is being hauled up, higher, higher. Chanua and I are still both screaming, and I'm panicking. What can I do? If only I had the GPS to throw…

Oh God. Chanua has the GPS. I hold my breath, and right on cue, a black, rectangular thing drops twenty feet to the water, and the men don't notice she's purposely dropped it. I don't rush to retrieve, I'll get it later. Liham joins my side as the helicopter prepares to take off again, but he's not screaming like I am. Before I know it, he's at my side, scooping me up, soothing me. My screams fade as the helicopter does. I had no idea the attachment I have to Chanua, but I think it may just be me caught up in the moment, imagining the horrible things they may do to Chanua, and for what reason? What's their motive? Liham elevates my head, whispering things I can't recognize, but his tone soothes me. I'm grateful, but not enough.

The Capitol's got Chanua.

*_A short follow-up chapter to the previous super long one, but again, it's huge in the story._

_If you have any questions about why the Capitol's got Chanua, the answers will be featured in the beginning of the next chapter!_

_WARNING: The next chapter will begin on land._


	16. Wanted

_*All I can say is, think back to the HG trilogy. When they tried to eat the berries, therefore outsmarting the capitol, how did the public react?_

_That's why Chanua was taken. They want her to make up a story to make the Capitol look good again._

_Also, thank you for all of your helpful reviews, they really make my day ^_^_

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Tonight, we all sleep crammed into a baker's shed. Acton is still furious with himself for not seeing Chanua being taken, for he was holding the electric shocking stick, thing. Sashah is trying to cheer us three up with jokes and optimism, but it isn't working. Honestly, I don't know why Liham's solemn. He never took to Chanua. I get the feeling I'm missing something.

We swam for another day after Chanua was taken, with little to no talking. Chanua has previously provided most of the chatter, granted it was through mumbling to herself, but it somehow eased the tension. The tension was all back.

We'd arrived on a sandy beach, tired, exhausted, and in bikinis and swimming boxers. It was scorching outside, but Acton said that wouldn't last into the night. We pretended to be beach-goers, snagging some pieces of watermelon before we were shoed away by some people with thick Spanish accents. We've decided to speak as little as possible, and the only word we use will be "English?".

Eventually we'd decided to split up and meet back in the busy Spanish market in an hour, searching for shelter and merciful people willing to spare some pieces of bread, and information on how to catch a boat back to the Districts. I set off on a small dirt road, leading me past several small little houses, but I smell baking bread, and I need to know where it's coming from. I'm like a dog following a scent trail, and just as desperate. Eventually, when I see a hand painted sign with a bunch of Spanish words and a hand-painted bread picture, I take a deep breath, and remind myself not to be afraid of rejection. Not everyone can be sympathetic, can afford to lend a stranger some bread. I ready myself for a door slam in the face, and walk up the little stone steps to the doorway. It could be both a shop and a house, in fact, I don't doubt it. The person or people seem well to do, compared to the other dwellings on their road. I take a deep breath, and knock.

It takes a few moments of waiting to hear the heavy footsteps, then some clinking behind the door, and it is cautiously opened.

In the doorway is a large, fat, pink man in a white uniform with cleanly cut black hair and signs of a mustache. I usually imagine people like this as jolly and friendly, but he looks so shocked and terrified I take a glance at my body, and have the same reaction. I'm red, blistered, and peeling all over, my hair is a matted mess, and my thin bathing suit is tearing in inconvenient places. We're both silent for a few moments, while we both gape at my condition.

"Robert, dear, who's at the doo-or?" a lady calls in a sing-song voice from the back of the house, and I'm shocked at her English. She must be from the Districts, her English sounds so clean. The man struggles to speak, still staring at me like I'm a ghost. I'm starting to get a bit weirded out. I can't be that hideous, can I?

"Cal-Calista, dear? Come to the door," he called for his wife, and hearing no noise, called again. "_Now._"

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I'm dragged inside of the house, ushered into the living room, and fussed into a much-too-large t-shirt that surely must have belonged to the baker. The man's pulling the curtains over the windows, and the woman's slowly lowering herself into a cushioned chair, hand over her heart, eyes wide, murmuring "it's the Yunnan girl, Burnet Yunnan," over and over. I'm officially scared. What have I done?

The woman seems to sense my distress, and snaps out of her trance. "Oh, look at the poor dear, Rob, all flustered! Don't worry, hon, we're friendly," she says, and I hardly have time to smile meekly before I hear two high-pitched hollers from above me, and a serious amount of stomping, and I'm confused. What the-

Two boys, no older than seven, come charging into the room, wailing at the top of their lungs, one reaching for the other, as if trying to tag him. The man sighs, and pulls the last curtain. He ushers the two boys out of the room, and settles into a far larger cushioned chair close to the woman's.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, almost harshly, and his wife shoots him a disapproving look. I'm not sure what to think.

"Now now, she just got out of the Hunger Games, let her explain," they say, and look at me expectantly. I don't say anything, just sit there awkwardly, thinking of the twenty minutes in which I need to be back in the market. The woman sighs.

"Well, you must be confused. Now, we've just moved from District eight two years ago, and still watch the Hunger Games. You see, our eldest, Maybelline, stayed behind, and we're worried she might be reaped. She's just sixteen," the woman makes at attempt to clear things up, and it hardly makes any more sense. The man takes over talking.

"You see, everyone's been told you and your friends died of shark attacks. You guys threw the seaweed, it sizzled, then they showed a bloody death scene. But it was figured out almost immediately, and now small little rebel groups are starting to form. It's amazing what can happen in two days. Trust me, I have some important friends in the Capitol. They're worried. The Capitol's new explanation is that you're wanted for light questioning on how you escaped, just for informational purposes. More people believe that, mostly those who trust the government, but I know they've got your little friend. Who know's what they'll do to her," he said, shrugging, and things make sense. I am a bit angry at him for that last bit, but the couple's hospitality smoothes it over.

"So you and Mister Dark are wanted criminals, to put it simply, but the Capitol doesn't want people to think that. Long story short, they're afraid of a third rebellion. Not only that, but they're afraid you've somehow contacted the Mellarks."

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So long story short, they went and fetched Acton, Liham, and Sashah, and told us we could sleep in their shed and wait until morning to catch a boat to the Districts. Naturally, the Capitol has no idea where we are, but intend to find out and remind us that they hold Chanua.

For now, we're wanted criminals. Just- in Spain.


	17. No

_*We've skipped a bit of time here, but only a day and a half. The day they got on the boat, and the morning of the current day. It was basically them getting onto the boat, thanking the baker's family… but we'll see them again, baker's family lovers! And no, Burnet doesn't buy a vacation home in Spain._

We caught a morning trip to District 12 yesterday morning, and in moments we should be arriving. It's not a big ship, it's actually quite small, and it was quite tough to hide until we were deep into the voyage, and during such a time when we were sure we wouldn't be noticed, we came out. We were right; nobody cared.

The baker's wife insisted that we not be seen publicly, and gave us some very odd hoodie/capes, and instructed us never to mention their family in public, for their safety. We can see the shore from here; all four of us are lined up at the railings, just staring at District 12. We've all agreed that it's safest for us to stay together, and Liham says we can stay in his family's abandoned barn. At first Acton suggested that I not contact my family, but Liham and I both insisted that my family needed taking care of. They think I'm dead, and my brother can't care for my dad much longer, if he's tried.

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It's so strange walking through District 12 trying to hide your face, we can't do anything. It feels almost like a tour, through the brown hoods we're draping halfway over our faces, Liham and I are showing off the Hob, the square, and other places to Acton and Sashah, and they're lapping it up. They think District 12 is neat. It's sort of fun, until we get to the butcher's place.

"And this is…" Liham begins quietly, and his voice fades into silence. He knows I live here. I told him everything about me on the island. We have almost no secrets, except I didn't tell him my mom left. I just told him she wasn't here anymore. I gulp. Time to face my family. Will they be happy? Shocked? Both? I know my dad will be overcome, but what about Hunter?

"This is my place," I try to say confidently, but my voice cracks at the end. I try to pass it off with a clear of my throat, and hurry up the steps, not looking at the three people behind me. _Here goes nothing_, I think, and push open the door, preparing for loving hugs and embraces. That's not what I get.

I take a right into the kitchen, and freeze. There's Hunter, sitting at the kitchen table, doing homework. I just blink at him until he turns to look at me, with a dull expression on his face, but when he sees me, his eyes grow wide, he backs up his chair, and slowly stands up, clearly surprised. He should be.

"Hello Hunter," I say, and look around the kitchen. Something looks different… then I notice it. There are beer bottles everywhere, strewn across the counters, stuffed into corners, and I'm getting angrier with every bottle. Then I see something that sends me over the edge. The tip jar, which is usually full when it's been a good day in the butchery, is empty, and dusty. I'm fuming now, and I stride over to Hunter, and swiftly slap him across the face.

"THIS IS HOW YOU TAKE CARE OF DAD! HE'S DRUNK AND MONEYLESS!" I scream, and Hunter's eyes look guilty, pained. There's a red blotch forming across his face, but I don't care. We both know he deserved it. I'm breathing heavily, just getting angrier with every thought. "HE NEEDED ME! WITHOUT ME, HE NEEDED YOU! IF I HADN'T COME BACK-" I scream again, but fall short, and Hunter gulps. What a coward. I take a deep breath.

"Go get dad. Right now," I say, and Hunter opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt him, "I know he's at the bar. Don't lie to me," I say, and his face falls, knowing I've figured him out. I take another deep breath. "I'll explain why I'm still alive _later_."

Hunter quickly shuffles down out of the kitchen, and I don't budge, frozen, just staring at the opposite wall. What's happened to my family? I finally turn to see Hunter hurrying down the road towards the bar, fastening his scarf, and that's when I move.

I hustle out the door to meet three stunned faces, and my facial features soften. My friends. I quickly explain as much as I feel comfortable explaining. "Just a little argument with my brother. Let's go."

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Liham invites the three of us into his house for the moment he sees his family, and their reaction is just the same as I wish my family had done. There are screams, wails, tears, and a whole lot of loving embraces. Some lady who looks like Liham's grandmother comes up and hugs me too, and I gladly return it. Did they watch the Hunger Games? How embarrassing. I was one step away from sleeping with their beloved Liham.

The family then wants us to sit down and explain "how the bloody hell we're still alive," as Liham's good-natured grandfather puts it. Liham has me explain how we'd stayed alive on the island, then how I'd stayed alive with Acton and Chanua, then he explained his horrible, terrifying nights alone with the moonlight and the sharks, and how Sashah had just about saved his life. The rest the family had all seen on camera, but we also explained our trip out of the force field, Chanua's kidnap, and our brief trip to Spain. It is like talking to my own family, a bunch of blondes, the family I'd never had. But when it is over, I know I'll have to go back to my drunken father and idiotic brother.

For now, Liham leads us to the barn that will be our home for a while, and even though Liham and I could easily skip home and plop into our comfortable beds, we stay with Acton and Sashah. It's getting dark, anyways. After talking, the family all ate, and even Acton, Sashah and I were invited to eat as much as we pleased. It was like a brief moment away from all of the sadness. Sashah still isn't quite right, she drank a ton of water and had little food, and she has random outbursts at the oddest of times. I think the horrible, terrifying time at sea changed her. I think Sashah's going a bit insane, and try I might, but she's just getting odder.

I'm a bit scared of the night I'll have. These nights on the run, in the Games, have all been nearly dreamless, if not completely dreamless. But this night, this calm, happy night, I know I'll have nightmares. I struggled with nightmares on the happiest of days before I entered the games, and now that something truly disgusting and horrible has happened to me, they'll be almost unbearable.

That's why my spot is next to Liham, at least for tonight. Acton and Sashah are already asleep on the other end of the barn, but we're both wide awake, and I have something to discuss. It's something small, but it's meaningful to me.

"Hey Liham?" I ask him, and he replies with a sleepy 'hmmmm?'

"Did you happen to see Gentian through the school windows, I mean, when you were looking at the table?" I ask. It's a perfectly sensible question to ask. When we were walking through town, Liham pointed to the school. "Hey look, there's the cafeteria. You can see a table," and the table was where me and Gentian used to sit. The point is, if Gentian were there, Liham would have seen him.

Liham doesn't speak for a moment, and all is silent. With every moment of silence, I continually fear the worst. It is even a few moments more before he speaks.

"Burnet, I'm sorry. I didn't."


	18. From the Capitol, With Love

I yawn. I hear the birds chirping above my head, and when I open my eyes, the light is streaming through the front of the barn with no walls, highlighting every dust particle floating in the air. I scrunch my eyes and blink until the effect has worn off, and sit up, leaning back on my hands. I look around. Liham and Sashah are asleep, but I don't see Acton. I glance around, and train my eyes on him. He's sitting on the floor, dangling his legs over the edge of the barn that has no walls, staring at something. I silently stand up and pad over to him, yawning soundlessly, but somehow, he senses me. I sit down next to me, and he offers me a slight smile. I return it.

"Hey Burnet," he says simply, and I smile again. Then he looks back out into the distance, at the town that's low us, since we're on the top of the barn, at Liham's house, with an assortment of rooms with lights on and rooms with the curtains drawn. I look at Acton, and I realize that he had a life, too. We all did. We all had normal family lives, we all did completely agreeable things that everyone in society did, like eat cereal for breakfast, or go to school. Except for one thing; we competed in the Hunger Games. And escaped. This brings a thought to my head.

"Hey Acton? Why haven't they killed us yet?" I ask innocently, and this brings a smile to his face. He does this odd boy chuckle thing, which brings a smile to _my _face. But he does reply.

"Because they have Chanua. Anyways, it would make them look bad to kill teenagers, not that they aren't already doing that in the games," he adds the last part when I wrinkle my forehead, "but outside of the games. The rebel groups are forming already. They know Chanua's good with words. She can make them look good," he said, and I bit my lip. "Most of all, though, they want there to be order. Even with the rebel groups they're well aware are forming, they're always trying to maintain order, make it seem as if the way it is, with the capitol on top, is the way it's supposed to be. They're trying to maintain order with those who still believe that we died in the games, and eliminate those disrupting the games. The rebel groups have allies in the capitol, and if they see us all chained up inside, forced to keep quiet, it will get out. They've only taken Chanua so it doesn't look as bad as it is. They must have some other method to keeping us quiet," he explained, and I shuddered. The real question was, how would we get her back?

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Acton's agreed to go with me to check the mail and check on my father and brother, and I'm sure we look odd, him in a t-shirt and boxers under a cloak, and me with my night dress and rabbit slippers, under a brown cloak, but I don't care right now. There are much worse things to worry about than a 12-year-old clique's opinion on my slippers.

Finally we reach my house, and I decide to tackle my family first. Acton waits outside while I slip quietly into the house, immediately making my way into my dad's room. He's neatly tucked into bed; granted, he's drooling, and the room smells strongly of alcohol, but at least Hunter did something right. I blow him a kiss, and head to my brother's room.

I peek my head in the room, prepared to see my brother snoring his head off, one leg peeking out from below the covers, but I stifle a gasp at what I do see. He's not alone in the bed. Where Hunter usually lies is a tan, brunette girl who looks slightly familiar, but only distantly. She must have slept with Hunter. I feel a bit sickened suddenly, and tiptoe out of the room, unsatisfied but satisfied.

I make my way outside again, and Acton must sense my distress, for he asks if I'm okay. Naturally, I say I am, and that they're all fine, and stride over to the mailbox, reaching in to try to grasp the enormous pile that's stacked up in my absence. I inspect the pile. The top three are for me. The first is a letter from my school; I fling that back in. It's just excusing me from all classes until the games are over, or possibly forever, if I perish. Gee, what a heart-warming letter. The second one is again from my school, just with my grades. I don't give a rat's fart about my grades right now, and fling it back into the mailbox. The third one is from the Capitol.

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_Dear Miss Yunnan,_

_Congratulations on escaping our arena. Did you have fun? We bet you did. Unfortunately, escaping is not an option. As you may or not be aware, upon your escape we took your friend Miss Chanua Neale to the Capitol. She's going to be doing what the kids call "damage control", granted it be forcibly. However, you may not be aware that we also have your friend Gentian Harse, and he will be released precisely one week from now, with some information I think you will be wanting to know. Don't worry, the last tribute standing was crowned victor of this quarter quell, and many are now convinced you are dead. Just putting that out there._

_We've also been warned that you may have been in contact with one or more of the Mellarks. If this is true, it had better not be._

_Until then, best wishes from,_

_President Hayle_

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Just when I thought I'd cried enough, a small tear rolls down my cheek, and I burst into tears again, leaning my head against Liham's shoulder, with nowhere else to put it. I'm still not sure on where I stand with Liham, but I know we don't hate each other. In fact, I don't think I dislike him anymore. I'm not sure what I feel. I feel enough to put my head on his shoulder when I cry. Gentian's gone. The Capitol's got him. What have they done to him? Tortured him, most likely. There's no way I'll be able to wait a whole week to see him. Have they written all over his body, killed him and put a letter "from him" in his coffin? Even I admit I got a bit carried away with that last thought, but I know he hasn't gotten away unscathed. This is all because I escaped. I can't trick myself into thinking that I should have died a horrible death, but maybe if I hadn't met Chanua, Acton, and Sashah, killed them before we had a chance to get attached, then Liham and I would be the last two standing, and Gentian wouldn't be in this situation. I feel horrible, not just about myself, but _for_ Gentian. I got him into this. And now we're both paying a price.

I don't tell Liham's family. I don't tell Acton. I don't tell Sashah. But really, I had to tell Liham. I had to tell _someone_ and with nobody to trust, Liham's all I have. Liham and our long talks on the beach, our many near death experiences, our rationing of pineapples, the welcoming his family gave me. It all doesn't seem too bad, until I remember why it came about. Without the games, I wouldn't even know Liham.

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_*Another short but meaningful chapter! Please R&R!_

_*is exhausted* 3 chapters in one day, and TONS of planning! I hope it payed off! Thank you again for all of your constructive reviews, they really make my day!_


	19. Maybelline

Tomorrow it will all be over. They'll let Gentian go, and I can stop worrying, he'll relay the message, and I can stop worrying. But even then I won't be able to stop worrying; they'll have Chanua. The Capitol has somehow found a way to assure themselves they'll get everything they ask for. There haven't been any rebel groups in District 12, but Mrs. McNamara says her ex bets friend in Six has seen some pretty nasty brawls. Her friend says the public thinks of themselves as stronger than last time, but we all know that's not true. We can only hope none of this ties back to us.

If the Capitol thinks the public really can defeat them, they'll need to go right to the root of the problem; Acton and I. They already have Chanua, and they don't seem to be concerned about Liham and Sashah. At least, I hope not. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and the only sensible thing the Capitol could do, in their own eyes, is make us calm the rebels down, saying it was a complete mix up, we are fine, and the Capitol isn't angry. Really, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

My family's a wreck. Liham's coming with me today to check on my family, sense the McNamaras need some more ham, anyways. I'm a little bit scared of what I'll find, and I am haling my dad hasn't drunk since the bar, or Hunter's still on the list of people I feel like seriously injuring. Liham and I still have to walk with cloaks concealing our faces, but it's a short walk.

"I'll give you seventy percent off, if you'd like," I offer, referring to the ham. He smiles a bit.

"Naw, I couldn't do that…" he says, but I know money's been tight for his family. I also have to consider that money is tight for mine, but he's asking for a lot of ham.

"Forty off, then?" I ask, and he doesn't reply. I take it as a yes.

We slowly stroll up to the front door, and I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Who knows what I may have to set straight. I let myself in, and for once, am pleasantly surprised by what I see, but I've been having such a hard time with my family, I'm pleased by little things. Dad's eating cereal at the table. Granted he's standing next to the table and leaning on it slightly, and the cereal is dry, which is progress. Hunter is actually sitting at the table, with the girl from last night next to him. It's a lot to take in, especially the female visitor. I gulp, loudly. Dad finally sees me, and his eyes get a twinkle in them. Hunter must have told him. He lazily puts down his cereal and opens his arms wide for me, and I run to him, hugging him as hard as I can. I hadn't quite imagined this moment standing next to a girl my brother's slept with, but I'll take what I get.

"Hiya dad," I mumble, and hug him tighter for a moment before releasing, and backing up. I would have loved to say 'you look good', or 'have you lost weight?', but he didn't, and we both knew it. Now that I was closer, I could still distinctly smell alcohol in his breath, and his shirt was on backwards. He hadn't washed or shaved in weeks.

I turn around when I hear a noise, but it's Liham, walking cautiously into the room, as if he's interrupted something. I turn back to my dad, to introduce him, but my dad speaks first.

"O-ho, is that 'cha boyfriend, miss Burnet?" my dad asks teasingly, and the whole kitchen is silent. Before the games, whenever I brought Gentian home, my dad used to tease us similarly, but this is different. I normally would have half blushed and half frowned, batting it away quickly, but the Hunger Games and its nature changed that. I think it is the way we had to rely on our romance for survival, and that my own dad hadn't watched the games.

All is silent, and I'm sure Liham is thinking the same thing I am. My dad doesn't seem to notice he's said anything wrong, and keeps on smiling, jolly as ever, his gaze bouncing from Liham to me, and back again.

"Ahahahaha, no dad," I pretend to give a little giggle, and try to forget it. He hadn't meant it like that. "But I do think Hunter has some explaining to do," I say, referencing the girl draped all over him. The girl clears her throat and stands up, holding out he hand, looking a bit embarrassed, as if she'd intruded upon something that was none of her business. Well, in my opinion, she had.

"Sorry, hi," she said in a fakely cheerful voice, shaking my hand I am reluctantly holding out, "I'm Maybelline Rivera."

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On the way back home, all is silent until the very end. I just stare at the ground, shuffling my feet, sending up little plumes of dust and dirt. It's a convenient activity when you're trying to hide your face from the public. Liham only says one thing.

"Burnet, I'm sorry," he says, and his voice does sound a bit- shocked. He and I both know my family isn't used to me. It isn't the family I used to brag about proudly, how my brother, while a pain, was a coal miner, and my dad was a successful butcher. Now, they're both drunk nobodies with no money. Hunter admitted to me he's been spending all of his time with Maybelline. Really, Maybelline's nice, but I hate her. She's the indirect reason my father's in the state that he is. I managed to get a bath started and ordered Hunter to do the rest, hinting to Maybelline that she go home, and she hastily did so.

I don't say anything back. The rest of the walk is silent.

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**Really, I've just been righting at a super fast pace, and since this chapter is abnormally short and slightly uneventful, here are the first few lines of the next chapter!**

Today's the day, and quite frankly, I'm scared to death. What if Gentian doesn't remember me? What if he's been tortured? What if he's insane? They must have done something to him. During breakfast with the McNamaras this morning, all I do is stare into space, slowly lifting forkfuls of eggs to my mouth, occasionally murmuring a thank you. Acton suspects something's wrong, and Sashah's happily oblivious, but Liham knows exactly what's the matter, and he thankfully doesn't bring it up.

The only thing that could make me happy right now is if he came here unscathed, but the only thing that could make me mad is if he arrives here at 11:59 tonight.


	20. Gentian Returns

Today's the day, and quite frankly, I'm scared to death. What if Gentian doesn't remember me? What if he's been tortured? What if he's insane? They must have done something to him. During breakfast with the McNamaras this morning, all I do is stare into space, slowly lifting forkfuls of eggs to my mouth, occasionally murmuring a thank you. Acton suspects something's wrong, and Sashah's happily oblivious, but Liham knows exactly what's the matter, and he thankfully doesn't bring it up.

The only thing that could make me happy right now is if he arrived here unscathed, but the only thing that could make me mad is if he arrives at 11:59 tonight. I'm neither happy nor sad, more anxious and nervous.

"The eggs were delicious, Mrs. McNamara. Excuse me," I say, sliding back in my chair, creating an uncomfortably noisy rumble, and Liham's mom is about to insist that I stay, have some fun, when Liham shoots her a look, and she just smiles at my back as I hurriedly scuffle to the barn.

I run as fast as I can to the second level and sit on the edge of the floor, my legs dangling over the edge, just staring into the sky. Sometimes weird thoughts about life occur to me, and this is one of those moments. Why am I doing this? Because the Capitol tried to kill me, and will attempt to kill many more children in the future if something isn't done. How can we do that? The population's grown, District 13 is working on more nuclear weapons, and we may be able to overthrow the Capitol now. How did I manage to get myself into this? I don't know.

I'm so preoccupied thinking that I don't notice when a little dot starts winding its way up the McNamara's road, slowly but surely, with a slight limp. But even my eyes eventually catch the splotch of fiery red on the person's head. "GENTIAN!" I squeal, and am tempted to jump the two tall stories for a quicker trip, but that wouldn't end well, so I fly down the ladder and sprint across the grass lawn, slowing when I notice that he's limping and it wouldn't do to barrel into him. I keep running until I'm five feet away from him, and stop, out of breath. I take him in; torn clothing, ruffled hair, a twinkle in his eye, his usual childish grin, and I leap foreword, planting my lips on his before I even think about what I'm doing. He pulls me closer, and that's when I realize I'm kissing Gentian, and pull away. What did I just do?

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Nobody knows Gentian, really, so there are a couple of hugs and many, many introductions. Acton shakes his hand, genuinely pleased to meet him, and Sashah blushes deep red when he shakes her hand. Liham, however, just spends a long time studying him. I'd told him a lot about Gentian, and it was like seeing George Washington, with all of the pictures drawn of him and all of the famous stories, but no photos. Gentian doesn't really belong at the McNamaras though, so he has to go home and check on his family first.

He's at his own house for a few hours before he comes back, and by that time it's getting dark, and everyone's had dinner. In fact, Acton's already asleep. Liham's hanging out with his brothers and Sasha's applying makeup with Liham's slightly younger sister. I'm alone, trying to fall asleep in the barn, when Gentian comes in. I hear him, but don't look at him, assuming it's Liham or Sashah. I only open my eyes when he lies down a foot from my head, facing me. He wasn't looking at me, but when I opened my eyes, I caught his attention. We just look at each other for a moment, and it feels normal. I've looked into his eyes often before. I see his few scratches and a bruise next to his eye, and open my mouth to speak, but he does too, and naturally, he just pretends as if I wasn't talking in the first place. I had grown used to him doing this.

"Look, Burnet, about this morning-" he started, and I sighed. I'd forgotten about this morning.

"I was just caught up in the moment," I say, shockingly harshly, and soften my expression. He isn't fazed.

"Don't kid yourself Burnet. You know you felt something," he said, and hopped up, collecting his coat. "Glad to see you too."

He walks away, and I look after him as he rumbles down the noisy steps, and then he's out of sight. I think over what he said. Did I feel anything? Was I actually caught up in the moment? Does this mean that Gentian likes me?

The truth is, I'm not sure what I felt, and I don't know what to think.

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Gentian hasn't mentioned last night, in fact, he goes on as if none of it had ever happened, but it doesn't matter. He just wants me to keep it in mind, but go back to normal. But normal will never exist with us. I just competed in the Hunger Games, and the public is rebelling.

I'm the only one in the living room, and I'm watching the little television. Well, every twenty minutes or so it comes on for a little bit, then shuts back off again. I'm watching, bored, when President Hayle comes on, and I devote more of my attention to the little television set.

"Today," he says, in a very satisfied voice, "we're here interviewing Miss Chanua Neale about how she escaped the arena. Here's Eddy with Miss Neale!" he says, and I squeal, sitting up abruptly, all of my focus on the screen. Chanua!

"Thanks, President!" a man who I assume must be Eddy says, and the camera turns to focus on Chanua, who walks onto the set. I gasp. She's in the most gorgeous mini dress I've ever seen, and her hair is amazing, but she's not beautiful today. Her eyes are filled with desperation, and there are dark circles under her eyes. Far too much makeup has been applied all over her body to cover up several scratches, and not only are her eyes desperate, they'e full of pain and reluctance.

"Oh no," I mumble to myself. What have they done to her? Of all of us, I thought Chanua would be the one they would least likely break down, but here she is, broken into pieces. She gingerly sits into a horrid, white plastic chair, and my eyes are glued to the screen, feeling her internal pain, flinching when she does.

"So, Chanua, who really came up with the plan?" Eddy asks, and this doesn't seem to affect Chanua, but I can tell she's doing far more thinking than this question could require.

"It was me, Eddy," Chanua says, and my eyes grow wide, shocked. Sure, Chanua did some, but Acton was the main planner! Did she just sacrifice herself? For what?

"Oho! Did you ever stray from the original plan?" Eddy asks with a twinkle in his eye. Chanua looks like she was straining something, and it was unbearable.

"Well, um, we knew sharks probably wouldn't find the most edible food, so we lucked out with the dolphins, and- just happened to escape from the arena," she says, and this seems to take the most effort. I know why- it was a flat out lie. The Capitol seems to want to change the public's view, let them know it was all an accident and that we hadn't _actually _escaped from the arena. Why has it taken them so long to get this interview? Then I realize it, and feel like an idiot because I've only just realized it.

Chanua isn't doing and of this willingly. They're forcing her. They must have something on her, like a family member, or a bomb threat on her district, because if I know Chanua, she'd put up more of a fight than just a week and a half if it were just her and the Capitol.


	21. Blue Jay

*_I have been having serious trouble thinking up a good summary for this story; I feel like none of the ones I've come up with quite illustrate the story. If anyone can think of any good ones, lemme know!_

_And check my profile for some descriptions of the character, if you're fuzzy on one of them. Well- some description._

_Also, starting now the chapters will be longer, since I realize I have a ton of story to get through, plus a sequel. _

Of course, I immediately told Liham, Acton and Sashah, and they all reacted similarly. None of them seemed to believe me. Acton thinks I overdramatized things, Liham says he agrees with me but there's doubt in his eyes, and Sashah doesn't believe me because she doesn't want to. I don't blame her; it's a lot to think about.

I've heard rumors that some people are gathering in District 12, seeing how they can get nuclear missiles from District 13, or at least get them on our good side. These days I've been feeling a bit obligated, being one of the few people who got the idea of another rebellion into people's heads, to help some. A brilliant idea tame to me, and the only person I think will actually agree with me is Liham. So right after breakfast, I pull him aside and bring him out to what the McNamaras call the 'patio', but is really a done or so bricks pressed evenly into the mud, with two chairs and a side table. Neither of us sit down- we both sense that my idea is going to be big.

"Liham, I'm gonna say this simply," I tell him, and his expression doesn't change. He's intent upon listening to me. "I think we need to contact the Mellarks. Just like the Capitol thinks we are," I say, and he bristles. If we can pull this off, this will be huge. We know someone knows where they are, and we know a couple of people who know some friends of the Mellarks. It won't be easy, but it would be a huge advance in this small, small rebellion.

.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`

Everyone's been on edge, tense, and in thinking mode, and poor Gentian can't stand it. He hasn't yet told us the Capitol's 'message', and I haven't asked him. Nobody's even mentioned his time at the Capitol. He'll tell us when he's ready. Right now, however, Gentian suggests swimming in a little swimming hole in a legal area of the woods, and swinging on the hanging rope. Of course, I don't want to swim, after having the horrible sea experience and nearly being killed by sharks, and Liham is a bit apprehensive, but Gentian doesn't mind at all and Sashah and Acton don't seem to care. So I stay in my bra and throw over a thin t-shirt and switch into a bikini bottom. I doubt I'll swim, but if I do, I'll swim in my shirt.

It's good to get away, but it's hard. I fall behind the chattering group and Liham gets ahead of the group. We both want to be alone, but I want to be alone together, if that makes sense. Acton and Gentian have taken to each other quickly, but I think Acton is the most anxious of all of us to hear what the Capitol wanted to tell us. I do think it's a bit rediculous that he's keeping it from us; but maybe he has a method to his madness.

We arrive, and the place is beautiful. After a ten minute walk through the woods, we come across a miraculous, glimmering swimming hole about twenty feet below us. It's rather large, but across it I can see a small little stream where the water flows in and out, but it's littered with rocks big and small. At a twenty feet drop, it would probably be fatal. Over it there is a rope swing, dangling from one of the taller trees. I gulp, and promise myself not to bring it up.

Sashah, being the wild girl she is, immediately does a cannon ball into the water. I squeal, imagining how the pool is probably two feet deep and littered with sharp stones, and she's probably lying at the bottom, paralyzed, but when I glance at her she's paddling in the water, a huge grin on her face. How can she be so casual about water?

Gentian dives cleanly in next, then Acton, then Liham gracefully drops in. I just sit near the edge, my legs curled up to my chest, observing them splashing each other playfully, occasionally smiling. Both Gentian and Liham ask if I want to join, Gentian repeatedly, Liham only once. I shake my head every time. I've had enough water for a lifetime. I've had enough death for a lifetime. I never want to see someone ripped apart my a man-eater again. Sure, people tell you sharks aren't man-eaters, but I've seen the contrary.

Gentian climbs up the muddy slope and finally gets out of the pool, and I see him heading for the rope, and hold my breath. He couldn't be, could he? I've also had way too much experience with close calls. I hurriedly stand up, and trot over to him, making sure to move faster than he is.

"What are you doing?" I ask accusingly, and he turns around, a grin on his face.

"What's life without a little _danger_?" he asks, with no sensitivity whatsoever. He's always been like this, but he usually apologizes. Not this time. I understand, he's pumped up, ready to swing, and he can't possibly know what I experienced if the Capitol had him. Still, I'm reassured to know that either the Capitol didn't hurt him, or what they did didn't bother him.

Since the rope hung squarely in the middle of the ten foot gap, he took a running leap, and I squealed. He flew one, two, three, four feet through the air and just barely caught the rope. Everybody is staring at him, and he looks back at me. He sees my horrified expression, and makes his grin more comforting.

"Awh, c'mon Burnet, lighten up some!" he calls, and pumps his legs until he has momentum, and then leaps again. The rope creaks horribly, and I'm afraid it will break, but it doesn't. I hold my breath, and am unable to speak when he falls short of the edge, scrambling to find a foothold. His face is panicky, but as soon as he's safe at the other side after getting back on, his grin is back. All is silent.

"That was fun!" he calls out reassuringly, and right on cue, Sashah finally makes it out of the pool and trots past me like I'm not even there. How could she? Wasn't she the one who spend all those nights with Liham, fending off sharks with a flimsy little light that could break any second. She approaches the rope, and for a moment I see a flicker of doubt pass through her eyes, but it's quickly replaced with excitement as she takes a deep breath. She saw the rope almost give under Gentian. Of course, she's smaller than him, but it's even more weight.

She takes an intake of breath, backs up, and takes a running start. The whole area is silent except for the sound of her padding feet and my sharp breaths. She leaps, latches on, and it cracks.

She screams louder than I've ever heard her scream, and I do too, and before I can think I'm over there, but it's too late. The rope is falling, and so is Sashah, twenty feet to her sure death. Somehow, with a stroke of luck, the top knot gets caught up in a vine growing around a protruding branch, and she halts abruptly, which just prompts more screaming and squealing from Sashah. I just stand by the tree's trunk, my mouth open but unable to omit any sound, staring, waiting for the vines to give, but they don't.

Acton immediately focuses on getting out, and Gentian and Liham are coming, but I finally am able to speak. "I'm the lightest," I say shakily, and nobody questions me. I am very lean and not very tall. I take a deep breath and find the branch that the rope is tangled in. Sashah's whimpering, clinging to the rope so tightly her knuckles are white. It's a long, fifteen foot drop to the bottom.

I put my foot on one knot, then the other, climbing ever higher, slowly but surely. Sashah's still whimpering, Liham and Gentian are just staring. The vine is a thin little thing, and probably can't hold 110-pound Sashah for much longer. I finally reach the base of this branch, and I'm about one foot above Sashah's head. I can hear the branch start to crack, and my heart skips a beat, and I stop moving. The noise stops. All is silent except for a blue colored bird tweeting robotically a few branches above me.

I inch foreword again, and the cracking is louder. I realize I'll have to do something now and care about myself later, for my chances of falling are much less than Sashah's. Sashah squeals, there's several intakes of breath from the ground, and as the cracking's volume begins to signify the branch is going to crack, I flatten myself onto my stomach and hold out my hand. This is probably a stupid idea, as are many of my ideas, but Sashah takes it as I can see the crack in the branch getting whiter and whiter. I take my other hand and hold it up, grasping onto a branch above me, but I obviously lose my balance, and as the branch cracks, I slip.

Not a sound is made, and I scrunch my eyes, putting all of my effort into holding onto the branch, but I can't support my weight and Sashah's with one hand. I'm just not that strong. My fingers begin to slip, and Sashah feels it. She begins to swing, gaining momentum, and she finally jumps. I open my eyes just to see her tumble on the the very edge of solid ground, and she just lies there for a moment. _Okay, she's not going to drop twenty feet to her death, and I'm not either,_ I think, and swing my other arm up to help myself hang on. I then swing one leg up and pull myself up so I'm straddling the branch, and inch backwards to the tree's trunk. I slowly climb down, and I'm safe again.

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Sashah seems to be traumatized, while I'm perfectly fine. I must say, she came closer than I did, but it was nothing compared to how I felt when I was five feet away from a man eating shark, wit no hope of reaching shore without outside help. In that case, there was nothing I could do. Everything was in my hands this time. The shark scene replays and replays in my mind, and I'm in silent agony as we walk home. Nobody talks. Gentian is probably seriously regretting taking Acton, Sashah and Liham here. He and I went here when we were very small, with our parents, but then there was a stable bridge, and no rope swing.

I glance up when I hear a familiar noise. Somewhere to my noise, in the trees, I hear robotic tweeting, and turn to see a blue and golden bird staring at me, just staring. When I see it's eyes, they're completely jet black. It cocks it's head, and I stop. It's at that moment when it abruptly flies away. I watch it as it soars, but something strikes me as odd.

It's flying in the direction of the Capitol.

_QUESTIONS!_

_-What do you think that bird is doing?_


End file.
